>
*While Lenore Zion found the retarded kind and Megan DiLullo stumbled upon the sexy type, I only got the violent one.*
I’ve been punched in the face a lot in my life. My mouth has often made promises that my body wasn’t quite prepared to defend, but that my ego wouldn’t let me back out of either. A dangerous grouping those three, the mouth, body, and ego. They never seem to agree on anything. Not mine anyway, hence that punching in the face part.
I have a list a mile long of things I’ve done that I shouldn’t have, and that list is only slightly longer than the one of stuff I still do that I shouldn’t. None of the good stories have ever come from playing it safe. Not one, which is why I’ve always been so quick to leap into the fray haphazardly.
But those are the actions of the young and invincible, I tell myself. War should not be waged in the physical ways of my youth, but with intelligence and maturity now. A cleverly crafted phrase, I try to convince myself, is far more effective than a strong right cross.
And yet somehow, despite the best of intentions, I can’t quite shake my former tendencies.
Like that one night, when I may or may not have beat up a midget.
In my defense, the midget did start it. I was hanging out after a show late one Saturday night with my regular opening act on the road, a stocky black guy named Sam. The clinking of ice signaled that we were empty, and we ordered another round of James and Jack and got change for another five. He and I have had an ongoing competition for years now, feeding dollar after dollar into the mechanical punching bags that bars began installing once they realized that alcohol and testosterone were worth a fortune when combined.
Basically, for fifty cents, a little leather bag drops from the machine and registers how hard you punch it. It is mindless fun and a matter of bragging rights amongst the guys. With a healthy buzz, I fed another buck into the machine and swung. As I connected, I heard a voice behind me say, “You hit like a bitch!”
I immediately turned around. Maybe it was tunnel vision or maybe I simply didn’t look far enough down, but when I spun to look, no one was there. I turned back around to swing again, and I was interrupted mid-stride by the same high pitched voice. “You gonna hit it harder this time? Pussy.”
That’s when I saw him. Four foot tall on the dot, there stood the most confident midget I had ever seen in my life. I leaned forward with my hands on my knees and I looked down at him, squinting at him like I was trying to make out fine print.
“What, bitch?” he said, and threw his arms out to the side. The stubby limbs hung there, taunting me. Beckoning me. Challenging me.
“You can’t do it,” Sam said to me, shaking his head.
“Can’t what?”
“You can’t beat up a midget. You won’t win.”
“You don’t think I can kick a midget’s ass?” I fired back.
“That’s not what I mean,” he said. “It’s just that even if you do win… you still kinda lose, man.”
“Brilliant,” I replied, suddenly happy to have been saved from the embarrassment of beating up a midget. “So what then?”
“You have to be the bigger man.”
“Did you seriously just say that?”
Sam laughed. “C’mon, man. Let’s go.”
As we turned for the door we pushed past the angry little dwarf, who wasn’t as content to let things slide as we were. He pushed his little midget shoulder into my leg and threw down the gauntlet. “Yeah, you better leave, motherfucker!” he yelled up at us.
“What?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“You better leave before you get your ass kicked. Because- “
Now, this is probably where the night turned sideways. I couldn’t even begin to guess what this little creature’s explanation was going to be for how he planned to hurt me. His “because” seemed to hang in the air forever. The only thing I could imagine was that he was going to suddenly pull back a curtain and reveal an entire midget army armed for battle; a thousand tiny goblin soldiers poised to attack with spikes on the tips of their boots and their teeth filed into fangs, while David Bowie sang about a baby.
“Because why?” I asked.
“Because I’m in the UFC,” the midget finally said.
“Unless they paint a number on your chest and the ring girls hold you over their heads between rounds, you’re not in the fucking UFC,” I shot back.
“Now you’re allowed to fight him,” Sam said.
I lunged forward, and the midget shot for the door. I don’t know if you know this or not, because few people do, but midgets are supernaturally fast and they click when they run. Click click click click click. Like a beetle. Click click click. You can Google it.
“He’s getting away!” I shouted, and pushed my way through the crowd after him.
“Throw your shoe at it!” Sam yelled to me.
“What?”
“Your shoe! You never saw Leprechaun?”
“Huh?”
“The movie? With Jennifer Aniston? Whatever. If you throw a shoe at a leprechaun, they have to stop and polish it.”
Ridiculous, I thought. I wasn’t going to beat this thing with mythology. I didn’t need rumor and folklore; I needed fact. I had to find a way to do some real damage to this midget.
We made it out through the front door to find the little elf clicking off and away down the sidewalk. I took off after him on what was, in my drunken mind anyway, a straight line, but was more than likely one of those Jeffy’s dotted line moments from Family Circus. All I know for certain is that I eventually caught up with him. As I drew near he turned around and growled at me, little midget juice dripping from its fangs.
“Rawr!”
The midget’s claim to have a background in mixed martial arts was at least partially true. In MMA, when an attacker shoots in for a takedown, a standard defense is to “sprawl”, or flatten out forward so that your legs can’t be wrapped up and controlled. As I got to the little creature, it did just that, except I was in no way actually attempting a takedown. I just sort of stood there while he dove forward and landed on his bulbous skull like a weeble-wobble that didn’t make it all the way back up.
My gut told me to jump up and land on his head, because everyone knows if you do that gold coins come out. I remember reading that as a child somewhere. Maybe the Bible. Then, I remembered how lopsided and misshapen midget heads can be and thought better of it, lest I turn my ankle.
There’s honestly not a lot you can do with a fallen midget. It’s a sad truth, really. You can either watch as they try to pick themselves up, which is like watching an upside down turtle struggle, or you can attack. It seemed unfair to kick him so I dove on top, twisting his leg into an impossible lock. A leg lock might not sound that impressive, but consider first how hard it is to actually locate a midget’s knee, and the degree of difficulty becomes much more apparent.
By this point, the bouncers had arrived and begun to pull me away. As I turned to wrestle with them I saw Sam tee off with a vicious right uppercut to the side of the hobbit’s head, easily lifting him three feet off the ground and knocking him backwards. He landed with a thud and then, beyond all explanation, popped right back up and ran off.
Click click click.
The only explanation is magic. Midgets can do magic. Sam’s punch would have knocked a rhinoceros unconscious. A forty-eight inch man-child couldn’t have survived it, yet somehow he did. And as that mystical little man clickety-clacked off into the night, my only recourse, since I could no longer reach him physically, was to throw a final verbal blow.
“I hope-” I yelled after him, “I hope you get eaten by an owl!”
Sam and I shook the dust off and made our way back inside. “I can’t believe I let myself do that,” I said.
“What? Get in a fight?” he asked.
“Yeah. I thought I was grown up enough to walk away from it.”
“Well, look at it this way. At least your last shot wasn’t a physical one. You gotta start somewhere.”
“I didn’t think of it that way. Baby steps, right? Maybe I’m growing up after all.”
“Nah,” Sam said. “You did just beat up a midget.”
“Shut up and give me a dollar,” I said. “It’s my turn.”
Oh my dear God.
Take your phone off the hook right now, Slade. Right. Now.
You’re going to have the LPA and that no-nonsense ex-con from Pit Boss on your ass in…minutes.
“Throw a shoe at it!”
Omigod.
*dons helmet*
Bring it. I’m pretty sure I can take at least seven of them. The rule is, you can’t get mad if it’s funny 🙂
I actually think it’s totally appropriate given the relative sensitivity that’s been lurking around here lately. A cunning challenge with which no one is more equipped to deliver than you. I’m all about balance.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going without this flak jacket. And these goggles. And this riot shield.
OK GO!
well that doesn’t make any sense.
How about just: “A cunning challenge that no one is more equipped to deliver than you.”
Yeah, I suppose I am momentarily representing the dark side. When you’re gearing up btw, the most important part is going to be the knee pads and shin guards.
*snort*
SHHHHHHHHHHH
“I hope you get eaten by an owl!”
Priceless. Where the hell did that come from?
I can only assume the Muses were laughing as hard as I was, and offered up a gift as a thank you.
The vision of an owl swooping in and flying off with the little man dangling from its claws is hilarious to me.
I second David. I’m also partial to the Family Circus line. I’m still snickering about Ted McCagg’s cartoon in which Jeffrey ends up in the van of a predator, which any reference to Family Circus will henceforth bring to mind.
Ted is amazing. I have forwarded that cartoon to I don’t know how many people. I thought of it as I wrote the line actually.
So how goes the editing, my friend? You’ve surfaced, if only momentarily, so I assume it’s all going well…
I concur. Ted makes me laugh a lot! I’d love to see him illustrate this post…
I’ve never read Family Circus before so I’m not really sure about that reference.
I was gonna Google you an example, but it’s harder to find than I thought.
To belatedly answer your question, Slade, it looks like I’m done, as per The Feed.
Meanwhile, your post caused me to Google, and I came up with this result, which you might find interesting:
http://theotherfamily.com/
It’s hit or miss, but when it hits, it’s pretty fucking funny.
Well then, first a congratulations. It must be nice to be finished.
Second, those cartoons – the good ones anyway – are hilarious. I love recaptioning. What a perfect target one panel comics are. It’s that perfectly sick kind of humor that I;m such a fan of too…
Good eye.
I don’t even know where to being with this one… but it’s apparent that the counter-Leprechaun axiom also is true:
If a midget throws a punch at Slade, he has to stop and polish it.
It’s scary to that someone might try to use this information against me one day. Slade’s coming! Throw the midgets at him!
Now that I think about it, I would make a much better vehicle for Jennifer Aniston than that Leprechaun film… The word play there totally intended 🙂
Vehicular Ham-slaught-her?
(“Slaught” is the pluperfect tense of “Slayed/Slade”, right?)
Also, I think I might have been drunk this morning: “begin” not “being”
Commenters need edit buttons too…
I just filled in the G all on my own.
Vehicular Hamslaughter. What a great CD title.
Or… Vernacular Hamslaughter. Hahaha. That sounds scary.
You can send my 10% to…
I’ll donate your 10% to charity. And by charity i mean I’m gonna keep it 🙂
Because, at this point anyway, I am clearly a non-profit entity.
I think you and that buddy of yours should have your own show: Sam & Ham. You two were funny as hell. I don’t know how strong your right cross is, Slade, but your cleverly crafted phrases sure kicked my ass.
Sam and I have been all over the world together. He’s a beast of a comic. As for the punching, I’m sure I don’t hold a candle to the TNBers with training. Erika Rae can probably put me to shame 🙂
And Uche, too.
And maybe even Matt, hahaha.
Leprechaun with huevos and Ham.
Dr. Seuss would be proud.
Oh, that was brilliantly done, Dwoz. Bra. Vo. You got all three.
Okay, any story that starts with “I’ve been punched in the face a lot in my life” is going to be interesting, if not necessarily dignified for the teller.
I did not, however, expect this.
Yeesh.
If there’s anything to karma, you’re going to have a Terror of Tiny Town on your ass before too long.
Admittedly, my battle stories lack the professional moves of a good Matt Baldwin fight, I know, hahaha. Regarding your theory, maybe the midget was a really bad person, and Karma sent ME in response to HIS wrongs. That’s the optimist in me talking…
At least the story didn’t go where you were expecting 🙂
Actually, now I’m expecting a series: Slade Ham’s Punched in the Face Tales, or something along those lines. Hell, your next album could be concept record centered around the theme!
You might just be right about the Karma thing, too.
You know, it’s funny that you say that. I entertained a similar thought about a one man show, but my buddy Titus has beaten me to the punch. He has several scars and is going through the stories of how he got them. Or he will be anyway, once he’s through with this current show.
I like being Karma’s hit man btw. There may be something to that idea…
My hand STILL hurts from how hard I cracked that little bastard. Midget heads are made of Granite.
It’s about time you made it over here. Go get a Gravatar: http://en.gravatar.com/
At least I have proof now that none of this is a lie.
I feel kind of guilty for laughing at this!
I started laughing at the punch bag machine, because they had one at the One Eyed Penguin, right? Just above where Richrob was throwing down his dance moves? So many things to laugh about! Ahahaha.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a fight with a midget. I always seem to have scraps with giants. I once broke the nose of giantess. It was very satisfying.
Your lines in this are superb, Slade. Thanks for starting my day with funny!
Oh, Z… you will not be alone in the masses that are afraid to laugh. It’s healthy. There’s no harm in the telling of the story. I’m sure the midget’s version is just as funny, as he makes fun of us Averages (that’s what they call us).
And they DID have a punching game at the Penguin. There’s a picture of Rich hitting it somewhere. I should have outdanced the midget. What a better story it would be then.
Zara and Goliath. I like that.
Did you hit her with your fist, or with your sling and a shiny stone from the river?
I guess I would be a Below Average according to a midget..
As for Goliath – I hit her with my fist. Oh, what a terror I was.
Nope, we’re all Averages according to a very good friend of mine that is a dwarf. Anything over five feet. Or four whatever. All the way up.
And good for you. Connecting with a well thrown punch feels too good sometimes 🙂 So I hear…
Who started it?
She did. I can’t remember exactly how but she was very annoying and she was one of those mean girls. I was pretty tiny back then and I think she thought she could use stand over tactics on me. Silly girl. I had two rugby playing uncles who had been teaching me how to throw a punch since I was five. So I just went ahead and socked her one of the nose.
Big people think little people can’t hurt them. How wrong they are.
Of course, as I learned that night outside the bar, sometimes little people think the same thing about big people, which also proved to be incorrect…
I’m with you, Slade!
You have to learn to laugh at everything or life will suck you right down a black hole.
I myself have been through the whole thing before with Lenore’s story. People are jerks sometimes and what is politically correct can take all the fun out of anything.
I’m proud of you all the time.
You make people laugh who need to laugh to survive.
God bless you, Silly named guy!
I wish there was a LIKE button..
@ Irene – I missed the initial posting of Lenore’s story, so I never saw any of the comments. Did it start an argument?
I hope so 🙂
As I recall she got a lot of flack for it, but she’d remember better than I.
People my age told me that they were offended, but I’m not shy and I told them to lighten up or stop reading.
It wasn’t only comments, it grew bigger, if I remember correctly.
(Which I might not.)
Hmmm… there’s no way to go back and find old comments either I don’t think. Damn.
Here ya go, Mr. Twosigmasabovethemean
http://archives.thenervousbreakdown.com/lzion/2009/06/the-little-person-incident/
Are we discussing this post? If so, the comments are still there for your boundless enjoyment, Mr. Ham.
I should refresh my browser before commenting. Now it looks like I spent 25 minutes following Don’s link before I claimed it as my own. Hahaha.
I was trying like crazy to find it with comments, but I knew that Don would beat me, I should have known that Richard would beat me to it too!
Looks like the comments were all fine.
Perhaps it was only my stodgy old acquaintances who were offended.
Maybe Lenore will write and say what happened to her.
She’s obviously the one who knows,
plus she’s not demented.
Ahhhh… now I must read.
I remember practically falling off my chair and spitting coffee on you when you first told me this story. This is even better. I love this story.
As for the sensitivity of this issue… just because you’re a midget doesn’t give you license to be an asshole nor does it exempt you from the repercussions of your actions.
I think we may have to change your title from Dragon-slayer to Midget-Slayer.
I’m only saying…
The sensitivity issue bothers me. I don’t think there’s anything overtly hateful towards anyone other than that particular midget in this (except maybe the phrase “midget juice”).
The guy was dick, and I paint him as such. My goal was to make him evil and demon-y, the way I remember him. The live version of this is quite fun, as you well remember 🙂
Midget-Slayer has such a negative connotation, hahaha, though it WOULD make for a great movie…
Hnnnggghh…
See. I’m dying over here.
Because while I’m not offended by this, I know what is, technically, academically, offensive about it.
But since no one else seems to care, I don’t want to get into it and ruin the funny.
Oh, Becky. When has that ever stopped you? Is it the fact that it’s technically possibly racist? I need a good discussion. Let’s go. Chop chop. Spit it out! 🙂
Well part of the reason I don’t want to get into it is that I don’t feel particularly strongly about it. Like, I’m not here going, “How dare you!” Because, at the end of the day, I’m not PC, either.
But. If you insist:
It’s the dehumanization. What if you were chasing a black guy? “Throw a shoe at it! He has to shine it!”
I mean.
Holy shit.
I mean.
Faaaahhhhk. You can’t say that shit.
If someone were to come in with a real bone pick about it, you’d find yourself in that predicament. Trying to justify why it’s okay in this case and not in others. I don’t know that it’s racist, since I don’t think midgets are an ethnicity or cultural group, but it’s some kind of something in that general vein.
I mean, in the veritable soup of gender and race and sexuality cards that is American political zeitgeist, no one’s pulling the midget card? I am confused! And my riot gear is very hot for this weather!
The only explanation is that you, Slade, are magic.
For example, you made the last 15 minutes of my work day magically disappear.
Magic indeed 🙂
I actually agree with you, though I disagree. I mean, I agree with your take what I’ve done, I just don’t think it’s wrong. I suppose “midget” technically is a race, assuming the definition of race is a group of people that share unique genetic traits.
Still, I get angry when I am expected to live in a world I have to pretend not to see differences. There is a trend in America where people want to pretend that people are not different. We are.
The trick is to not let it influence your actions. I’m a perfectly healthy guy with 20/20 vision. To have the audacity to even ACT like I don;t notice skin color, or height, or weight in other people is fucking ridiculous.
I do notice. What I don’t accept is any insinuation that possessing any of those traits makes anyone a bad person. We’re just different, and I’m aware. I crack jokes about Sam being black. About me being white. Or people being fat. Or others being male or female or broke or rich or skinny or whiny or a million other things.
So the midget? I stand behind all of my words. He was a bad person that happened to be a midget. He wasn’t a bad person because he was a midget. I describe him the way I saw him, like I would have if he’d had curly hair or if he’d been super tall.
This is why I didn’t want to say anything.
You’re preaching to the choir. I agree.
I’m just surprised none of the congregation is shocked. That’s what I was bracing for. And now I’m sort of disappointed that I got all excited for nothing.
Fine. I’ll do it.
“MIDGET” IS A HORRIBLE TERM CONCOCTED BY P.T. BARNUM TO PROMOTE LITTLE PEOPLE IN HIS FREAK SHOWS — IT IS OFFENSIVE AND DEROGATORY TO THOSE IN THE DWARF COMMUNITY, AND FUCK YOU FOR USING IT! I HOPE THE NEXT TIME YOU TELL THIS STORY ON STAGE A DWARF COCK-PUNCHES YOU WITH A SET OF BRASS KNUCKLES, YOU UTTER SHITSTAIN!
That work?
more cowbell.
Sooooooo unconvincing, Matt.
Besides, “Dwarf” is offensive, too. If you were REALLY in the know, you’d know it’s “short-statured” and/or Little People/LPs.
Geez.
What’s the world come to when a conservative has to school the liberals on PC usage? Next thing you know, the best rapper in the world will be white.
Cats and dogs, living together…MASS HYSTERIA!
@ Becky – Well, MY midget friend prefers the term “dwarf”. I have another friend that calls them Shetland People.
@ Matt – The chosen name thing is such a bullshit argument. Again, coming back to my particular friend, he calls non-dwarf people Averages. Should I not find that insulting? I mean I could, but would that negate his ability to refer to me like that? It’s a word. It’s not derogatory. There’s no malice behind it when I say it.
Well, outside of this story anyway.
We’re such a hyper-sensitive bunch of pussies. I mean, I know your CAPS tirade was in jest, but there are people that legitimately get incensed over these things.
OH! And I suppose your friend is the Emperor of the Lollipop Guild!
No… I’M Emperor. Someone crowned me that recently, didn’t they? I don’t remember who. They don’t matter anyway. I matter. Emperor of Everything.
Including lollipops.
My friend really is a dwarf though, and for a shot of Patron he will ride his scooter over and punch anyone you want in the balls. It’s awesome.
Is your friend Wee Man?
I’m pretty sure all little people are Wee Man.
Like to see him try to pull that shit with me, though. I’d knock him over AND take his patron.
Just kidding.
I don’t drink tequila.
Funny how it’s not the lack of testicles that makes this untrue, but your distaste for tequila. Odd 🙂
I have cleverly hidden my testicles are in Richard’s purse.
Shit! Fuck! I ruined the joke with a snafu!
Oh, my life is over. This sucks so much. Fix it, Slade!
You did. You cleverly hid a verb in your joke. You clever hider you.
All your snafu are belong to Becky.
Someday we will be in the same room together, Slade. I will not forget this. You mark my words.
I know where your balls are, and they’re not in Richard’s purse.
“All your snafu are belong to Becky.”
Best comment in the history of ever.
No one should ever be allowed to comment on anything ever again.
Okay, so maybe your balls ARE in his purse.
Suck it, Becky.
For great justice.
You guys are fuckin’ hetero life partners.
Do you hold hands?
SIMON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Becky called me and Richard gay. But in a straight way.
Help!
Mommmmmmmmm!!! Becky won’t stop bothering me!!!1111!!111
This is where she types, “I’m not touching you!”
I originally typed “touching” instead of “bothering” but I figured that was the path to the Dark Side.
Clearly, we’re already well across the border into the Dark Side.
I don’t know who’s crossing the border into whose Dark Side, but are you guys sharing a hotel bed again?
‘Great shot, kid! One in a million!’
Why is your life filled with such hilarious moments? Keep the stories coming. Laughing – it’s a great way to start the day.
Midgets clicking as they run, gold coins spewing from their heads, leprechauns having to polish shoes thrown at it… and then this line which just cracked me up – “I just sort of stood there while he dove forward and landed on his bulbous skull like a weeble-wobble that didn’t make it all the way back up”.
Oh dear I’m gonna go to hell!
Yes, yes you are. I’m hellbound too. I’m actually going, as I’m so fond of saying, on a scholarship.
My gut told me to jump up and land on his head, because everyone knows if you do that gold coins come out. I remember reading that as a child somewhere. Maybe the Bible.
See- this is why I love reading your stuff.
Another thing I dig is the titles of your pieces- it’s like I see the title and start laughing before I get to the first paragraph. Across a Frozen Sea is a particular favorite.
This is typically hilarious- especially the taunts you lay into him as the story progresses. The owl comment at the end is the piece de resistance.
Well fucking done, man. If I ever find myself at odds with a midget, I’m going to let him know that I’m bros with you.
I spend far more time picking the titles than I should, but I think they’re important. Thanks for noticing 🙂
And if you ever have midget problems, I’m your man. Megan has even retitled me because of it. I need to incorporate. Maybe even get Ray Parker Jr. to do a theme song.
The way to make it fair, Slade, is for no one to be off-limits for humor.
I think that the TV show “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” does that, as does “Southpark.”
Both perfectly hysterical, wonderful, repulsive shows.
I agree. All sacred cows make great burgers.
I’m buying time on a billboard and putting that up.
It deserves bigger billing.
I wish it was mine.
You wish it WERE yours.
JeSUS.
No… I wish it WAS mine.
Or is it WERE.
Fuck.
I should learn to write. What AM I doing here. Seriously. Which one is it?
Slade,
When you use “if” what follows is conditional, so you use the subjunctive.
Love, Irene
I thought for sure you were going for a quick Top Gun joke in the first paragraph. You know, your ego is writing checks your body can’t cash. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed that you left it alone.
Anyway, this was fucking funny. And it reminded of the One Eyed Penguin, as ZaraPotts mentioned.
And when the midget first appeared, I thought he was going to challenge you to a punching bag contest, which led me to wonder if someone was going to have to hold him up, or if he was going to stand on a chair, because clearly the bag would be out of the reach of his stubby little arms.
Regarding Becky’s question about segments of the population you can or can’t make fun of, I can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with the relative size of the group you’re targeting. I mean, it used to be more okay to make fun of fat people, but now that almost everyone is overweight, that brand of humor has been voted out of office. In a manner of eating. I mean speaking.
Whatever.
The relative size? Really?
Size?
*face palm*
And I was unaware that there is a dwarfism epidemic? Is this one of the lesser-known dangers of high-fructose corn syrup?
We should involve the government.
Are you face palming at my wittiness? Or groaning at the joke?
I would think if there is a dwarfism epidemic it would be due to low fructose corn syrup. I hear that’s a common substance found near the ends of rainbows. Especially double rainbows.
Hahahahahahahahaha
Okay. It wasn’t that funny.
Double rainbow all the weyyyy.
@ Becky – Don’t you tell me how hard I can laugh.
Becky, my friend, I was browsing the Internets and thought you might like this, that is, if you don’t already have it.
Laugh all you want, Lenny.
It’s a free country. I’m just saying it wasn’t that funny.
I was being serious. You don’t like the picture?
Jinkers, people. Jinkers.
I wasn’t talking to you, Opie. I was talking to Slade. But it is a funny picture.
Zara, it’s okay.
It’s only serious if I have to put my riot gear back on.
Do I? Boys? I have a nasty crop to go along with it. Rawr.
@ Z – Whaaaaat? 🙂
@ Rich – Sadly, I could almost tell you what episode that was from… I’m such a ST:TNG nerd.
I keep making the mistake of being nice to Becky.
*face palm2*
Never, ever be nice to The Becky.
You guys are going to be so disappointed when you meet me in person and the worst thing I throw at you is a dirty look.
Oh, but you have such little faith in my ability to press buttons…
It seemed a bit easy to use the Top Gun line, hahaha, though the inspiration is obvious I suppose. I agree that certain groups seem to earn “protected” status. Fat people specifically. Fat jokes will never not be funny. Ever.
But… as more of the populace shifts into that demographic, it becomes more and more likely that I will offend. My show is littered with fat jokes. Fuck em.
And now the midgets are coming for me….
How you managed to work Family Circus into the midst of this is beyond genius. Laughing so hard I’m crying. “I hope you get eaten by an owl.” Oh my God.
Back in my Evangelical days, I went to a huge metaphysical fair in the city arena for the purpose of witnessing. Halfway through, somewhere near the chakra realignment tables and aura reading booth, I heard this strange little voice behind me and turned around to find a 4-ft man with bright red hair and (I swear to God) pointy ears. He was also wearing silver lame bellbottoms and platform boots. I thought he was a demon. Nope. No punchline. And anyway, you would have thought so, too.
Did I tell a version of this when you guys saw me? I can’t remember, though I think Megan did see it…
He had pointy ears? Hahahahaha. There is no punchline necessary. Those are the best kind of stories. Were you able to convert the demon?
Didn’t even try. He was too busy telling me about how wrong the Rosacrucian guys were across the aisle (Ascended Masters – PAH!) and how aliens were amongst us and he should know because he had been on a spaceship something like 17 times. He also told me how to attract spaceships to me through meditation. I totally need to turn that knowledge into cash someday.
I think I remember something about exchanged midget stories…this piece, though – priceless.
After all that, you kind of forget he’s a midget, don’t you? The stubby limbs and weird ears are the least bizarre thing about him.
I mean, I’ve only been on a spaceship 7 times. He’s such a liar. I’ll be the pitchman for your Alien Attraction program. Just saying. Lots of cash to be stolen….
And I stand behind my assertion that this is the best midget story ever.
I would pay good money to watch an evangelical Christian witness to an OT-level Scientologist.
I would even pay extra for popcorn.
Ooooh, what a reality show, no? Way better than Iron Chef or Man vs Food.
We could call it, “Witness This!”.
We should all get together and write a bunch of TV pitches. I have ideas, and now I know I’m not the only one.
We should do more than pitch it- we should DO it. TNB TV. Starting now. Go.
You don’t have to twist my arm…
Damn.
We should do something.
I’ve got A/V equipment, Erika. I live in Tulsa, home of Oral Roberts University and the Prayer Tower and the Eternal Flame. If you’ll drive over here when you visit Oklahoma, and if Slade joins, we could shoot an entire series of TNB TV content.
I’m not joking.
Pick a date.
Done. Check your email.
@ Erika Rae,
“Witness this” is genius.
It’s gonna be genius, as soon as we get our heads wrapped around it 🙂
Slade, you are a social miscreant. I fucking love it.
Do you know there is a midgetville in New Jersey? You can drive through the neighborhood — all the houses are built Keebler elf style. Sometimes the little people get pissed at the voyeurs and throw shit at slow-going cars.
Also, where are these bars with mechanical punching bags? That’s awesome. And a lot safer than hate sex with a stranger.
Lisa, you have no idea the depths of my depravity… hahaha. Hated sex with strangers is one of life’s rare pleasures. Never try to replace that with a mere punching bag. It’s an accesory, not a substitute.
Now…
THERE’S A FUCKING MIDGETVILLE?!?!?!
I will buy a ticket to New Jersey tomorrow. I have to see this. Now.
Uhh, I think the depths of your depravity were sufficiently illustrated by the skull-crushing bobble-heard leprechaun motif that results in a jackpot of gold coins. I prefer hate sex with people I know. I find it more invigorating to REALLY fucking hate the person. I just don’t feel that strongly about people I can only hate via the usual stereotyping and alcohol abuse.
And, yes. I’m sure you can consult Weird New Jersey for exacting details, but if memory serves, Midgetville is in Englewood Cliffs or thereabouts. Manhattan burbs. So, next time you’re in NYC…
(bobble-head. as you know. i soothe my OCD this way.)
Oh, I have to know them well enough to hate them, I just have the ability to hate someone reeeeeeally quickly.
Forgive my voyeurism here, but how, exactly, does Hate Sex work? I mean, I am probably ok for you to skip the mechanics of it…but how does that work? Strange to be my age and asking this question…
Oh, I’m sure LRC can explain better than me…
Or at the very least, it will be more interesting to read.
I thought I’d posted this so if it comes up twice, please delete.
Talking about communities, try this …
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/china/6245665/Dwarves-found-theme-park-commune-to-escape-bullying.html
Ya know, you can’t expect a lot of sympathy from me when:
“Now the group has turned itself into a tourist attraction by building mushroom houses and living and dressing like fairy tale characters.”
Hahahahahahahaha.
what an angry little person. i’ve learned recently that i am not allowed to use the other word. i have to say little person, otherwise i’ve offended a bunch of sissies. i’m glad the heat’s on you now, sucker.
I am shocked that you have abandoned the word “midget”. You’re not the Lenore I thought you were…
I’ll happily take the heat. Alone.
hey man. i’m just trying to make the sissies happy. the happier the sissies are, the less noise i have ringing in my ears. they’ve defeated me.
I would rather go out with my ears bleeding…
bottom line: i really dislike talking to people who get offended by dumb shit. therefore i will avoid offending them, which makes them less inclined to speak to me, thus cleansing my life of mewling irritants.
OMG Slade – you’re an evil, evil man. But in this case you did the right thing.
“I hope you get eaten by an owl!” Very possibly the best line ever.
Well, he was an evil, evil dwarf. I was quite thrilled with the parting shot.
Holy shit! I laughed the whole way through this.
What a great way to start my morning!
I wonder what that says about me?…
What does it say about you? It say that you’re as broken as the rest of us. This comment board is starting to read like the guest list at Club Hell.
Thanks for the repost on Facebook btw.
Well at least there will be a lot of interesting people and one helluva lot of laughs at Club Hell.
This is why you’re so fucking good at the punching bag thing! You hustled us!
Over here I don’t know what the PC term is. I do know that a man of shorter than average stature by genetics (that’s gotta be airtight) makes a living hiring himself out to bars. He runs up and down the bar top, pouring Jager into people’s mouths.
2007 was a sweet, sweet New Year’s Eve.
You cold, heartless bastard. You beat up a midget? Man, you’re going to hell for sure; you, and this guy I know from high school who had sex with a midget girl for $150.
Wait. Did he have to pay $150 or did someone give him $150 to do it?
I hear there’s a TNBook
imprint these days
& if the powers that
be are fool enough
to pass you up
then shame on them
because for all our prattle
this is the stuff that sells right here.
Right here.
I’ve met a lot of bully midgets/cripples/half-wits.
Like what are you really gonna do?
With midgets it’s not necessary to beat them up
You bear hug them and tickle til they pee their pants.
Worse than an ass beating, for sure.
Unless its a sexy midget
with a tickle fetish.
How nice it would be to one day put all of these stories in real print. It’s an obvious goal, so hopefully one day… I definitely have a lot of them. Your words, as always, make me happy.
To tickle until they pee… where were YOU when I needed you? Such a better ending to the story if I had.
Next time, midget. Next time.
Dude. I was already wiping away tears at “he dove forward and landed on his bulbous skull like a weeble-wobble that didn’t make it all the way back up.” And then you nailed me with “I hope you get eaten by an owl!” My stomach hurts.
Now… where do I send the Jameson’s?
I finally read this. And I laughed my ass off. I promise to say my Hail Mary’s and flog myself because dear lord, did I laugh.
Look, the little fucker provoked you and then taunted you and then relentlessly pursued you. And even if he had been 7 foot 9, he would have still been in the wrong.
Plus, your retelling is fucking hilarious.
“while David Bowie sang about a baby.” this single line had me in tears. That is just fantastic.
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