MAWG Musings


 E-mail conversations we have had over the years...




MAWG on Google



Just letting you know I added a "Google Friends Connect" thing to our blog. We haven't connected with any friends yet though. Sad, lonely blog.


Jim - I'm guessing you won't be joining us for Thanksgiving this year? Will you be there for dessert maybe?


Uncle Wrunkle:


Nah, I can't make it to Thanksgiving this year...sorry man. I'll probably call and get a rundown of all the awesome desserts that I'm missing though...


I saw that we have 4 people on Facebook that like us. We're kinda famous now. Ahh, simpler times...


BTW - I don't know what the fuck we have to do to get into the search results for google. I need to do more research. Maybe let Google cup our balls??




Seriously! I google "MAWG" every day and so far, nothing. That girl at hyperbole and a half had over a hundred followers by now (she's my blog role model). What'd she do? Did it involve balls? If Google wants to palm the boys, I'll let them have at it.


Sorry you won't be there for Thanksgiving. Nate and I will drink beer and scratch ourselves in your honor.



Mensa Flav:


Yes. Unless Google wants to do it for us.




Can you think of any word that is better onomatopoetically to describe the act of cupping someone's balls?


Uncle Wrunkle:


Great point. "Googling" really sounds like the only existing word for ball cupping. If i had to make up a word, it would "knumbling" or "uddles"


We could probably add more made up words for dirty things too.


The act of touching a boob: "grubbles", "ferf", "noopin"


The act of popping a zit: "snabbing", "greech", "wurch"


Holding your pee when you really have to go and you finally see the toilet, but haven't got your pants open yet: "chichichi", "graahd", "scootaladoot"  


Mensa Flav:


That smell left in a bathroom by the previous user: "grotch"


Any unintended or unexpected sound a body makes during love-making: "ponf"


Something in the fridge that smells wrong, but is not immediately

visible is the: "melgufenn"




The act of farting, then trying to escape the scene of the crime, but the fart just follows you; "fooshing."


Mensa Flav:


The more simple and made up the word, the more artistic and funny to me. These are most successful, in my opinion, when the topic is more taboo or intimately human. For the lighter stuff, we can make the terms more accessible and mainstream by co-opting existing words.


Screaming obscenities alone in your car when in a hurry to get to work and someone does something stupid, or a light catches you:




When rappers (like Coolio or LL Coool J) enter alternative industries like cook books or fashion:




Changing your seat to gain a more advantageous proximity or view of a lovely young thing:





You realize, of course, this is basically Sniglets (thank you Rich Hall, wherever you are), but with a little more edgy point of view. And at its finest and most elegant, it is a practice now fully integrated into the inane pop media when they assign a catchy name to a news item or trend. Our little slice of the publishable world is the stuff that they would never talk about, either due to it being too minor, too juvenile, or too dirty. Yes, we will occupy that ostracized seat on the train that no one else deigns to take because of evidence of what happened there, is happening there, or might attach itself to you as you try to leave:





MAWG on The Female Anatomy

Mensa Flav:


Hello, dogs. What is up?




My little brother sent me an e-mail telling me that a co-worker showed him a video of a man having sex with a woman in her "pee hole." I had no idea that was even an option. To be honest; I have a daughter, and despite the many diaper changes, and months of potty training, I still couldn't even say with confidence where the female pee hole is.


So to answer your question. Pee hole sex. That's what's up.



Uncle Wrunkle:


Pee hole sex. Hmm. I guessing that you'd have to have a dick like a catheter. And yeah, I don't think girls really have a pee hole. I've certainly never seen one. I think when women pee they just weep from the vag like those statues that cry blood. It just comes out. No holes. You know what else is like that? Sandwich bags. Pee in a sandwich bag and in a short matter of time, you've got a mess on your hands (or in your pockets!). Pretty much wherever you keep the sandwich bag, that’s where you'll have a pee pee mess to clean up.


Last night, I decided that it would be a good idea to start watching Midnight Express at 10pm. Never saw it before. That's one wacky movie. I'm gonna go ahead and steer clear of Turkey from now on.


My wife and I haven't been feeling so well and we've had some trouble sleeping. I took some Tylenol Sore Throat liquid (aka Freebase NyQuil) and hit the sack. My wife has since informed me that whenever I take that stuff, I talk in my sleep. She also informed me that the other night, I woke her up at 2am and used my outside voice to say "Wake up! Guess how many blankets we're using!? Guess how many!?......... All of them!!"


So what else is up with you guys?





So basically you are equating a woman's vagina to a sandwich bag, then encouraging me to pee in it... I'm surprisingly open to this train of thought. stuff the bag with raw chicken bits for a realistic texture.


I never saw Midnight Express, but if it takes place in Turkey it must involve homosexual prison rape. Am I right? The only two things I equate with that country are prison rape, and exotic chocolates.


The blanket story is awesome! I want to try some of that stuff just to see what will happen!



Uncle Wrunkle:


Raw chicken. You're on to something. Maybe the Jack Juice model needs some updating. I'm gonna get the Purdue people on the horn and talk some options. Most ex-military guys are straight faced... Is that why Colonel Sanders is always smiling?


Midnight Express...yes, gay butt-stuffing does pop up a bit. Not as prolific as Shawshank or Pulp Fiction, but it's in there. Kinda like the "nut" in Honey Nut Cheerios. Not like eating a bag of pistachios, but you can taste it. I'm gonna throw up.


Be careful with the Tylenol Sore Throat. If Timothy Leary made a cold medicine, this would be it. I think I'm going to have to save it for emergencies only. I have a vision of ending up like Frank the Tank in Old School, streaking the streets of Bucks County and waking up naked at 10am in a dumpster behind Uduppi Dosa Indian Buffett. They should market that stuff as "Tylenol Werewolf".



Mensa Flav:


let's me back up...


They have a pee hole. it's between the vag hole and the little captain at the front of the boat. and you don't put anything in it. and any woman who wants you to put anything in it, other than a catheter is a dirty girl. stear clear.


dextramethorphan hydrobromide. That's your boy. If it's got DM, you are in business, or in a dumpster,... and it is a fine line. half a bottle of robitussin, and the walls do a nice little dance. not suitable for rooftops. too many blankets! going streaking down to the quad! snoop! What's up?! Allegedly.


Midnight Express makes you happy to be in America, or at least the more solidly western world. They've probably got ipods now and everything, but why risk it? And prison anywhere cannot be good. i'm not sure if that movie had any message or point other than don't be a fuck up or you could get royally fucked, and you better fucking get your shit together and get the fuck out of there. Once impressive scene when he has his fiancee/wife press her breasts up to the glass visitor window is parodied by Jim Carrey in the Cable Guy. So both movies obviously have important cultural importance importantly.


you would think that peeing in bags would be a foreign and shocking concept. yet again parenting takes us through the dimensional portal to a place where on road trips, you will decide rationally, that it is more advantageous to let you child pee into a bag in the back of the car than to try to deal with the effort and hysteria associated with finding a suitable bathroom. weirdly, we as wee weeing people can value familiarity far more than suitability. pee in a strange gas station bathroom, why I never! hand me that bag, I'll just wizz here in the luggage compartment. why not.






Captain at the front of the boat? You're just talking gibberish now. I think maybe they pee out of their butts.



Mensa Flav:



respect the captain.



MAWG on The Golden Girls

Editor’s Note: “Jack Juice” is a MAWG product currently still in the “development” phase; as such, I won’t go in to details regarding its use. “Works for me” is the product’s catch phrase. MAWG is deeply emotionally vested in this product, thusly you will see it referenced several times on this site.





In case there was any question, in the Golden Girls picture, in my opinion at least, we are represented as follows:


Me = Estelle Getty - older than the rest of the group, moves a little slower, but still feisty


Nate = Bea Arthur - the voice of reason


Jim = Rue Mclannahan - youngest, most spry, likes to give hand jobs to elderly gentlemen callers (BOO-YAH!!)


I can't pin down Betty White though. Maybe she just represents the collective spirit of MAWG. Maybe I just want to bang Betty White. Don't we all though, really?



Uncle Wrunkle:


Look, it's not like I do the hand job thing all the time! I needed to pass my driving test, hand job. Mall security harassing me for using the handicap spot, hand job, park anywhere you want. My house appraised for what?!? Hand job, 20% above market. The ol' tuggum open a lot of doors.


Betty White...aww yeah.



Editor's Note (2):  These e-mails were sent in 2007, well before the recent cultural Betty White revival.  We just want it noted that we were inappropriately sexualizing Betty White well before it was socially acceptable to do so.


Editors Note (3):  MS Paint sucks, but it was all I had at the time.



MAWG on Higher Education

Mensa Flav:


So Jim,


How is school? Do you feel like you are learning that insider stuff about how the world runs? Or is it revealing that it is a small miracle that things run at all?




Also, have you pledged a fraternity of lovable misfits determined to make their mark on campus despite the mean spirited pranks they suffer at the hands of a rival fraternity made up of football playing douchbags? And, if so, did your fraternity, despite overwhelming odds, best this rival, thereby demonstrating that wealth and/or physical strength is no match for intelligence and pluck? Finally, did the besting of the rival fraternity include any or all of the following:


  • A talent competition (possible involving the one black member of your fraternity performing a rap)
  • A sporting event in which your team uses advances in science and mathematics to make up for physical limitations
  • Teaming with your fraternity's equivalent sorority, the members of which appear frumpy and unattractive until they undergo a makeover via a montage set to Roy Orbison's "Pretty Woman"
  • A spontaneous, yet heartfelt and eloquent speech delivered by your fraternity's president, extolling the virtues of excepting those who are different
  • You having sex with the president of the rival fraternity's girlfriend
  • A food-fight


Just curious.


Uncle Wrunkle:


Yes, I am actually learning things. What I'm finding mostly is that it's putting vocabulary and graphs to concepts that we are all aware of, allowing us to pick apart the elements and observe what affects them. For instance, I just finished a microeconomics class and we spent some time with supply and demand curves. I was well aware of supply and demand before the class, but I had never seen it graphed out and dissected. Same for marginal cost curves, variable cost curves, etc. NPV also seemed a bit understated in class but I'm guessing I'll be seeing it again soon. There's really something to be said for creating a visual representation of financial and market concepts and applying proper names to things. Same goes for my operations management class. It was all about efficiencies in manufacturing processes, how to best work with bottlenecks, that sort of thing. Again, they charted out work flows and were able to clarify the concepts visually.


Getting back to your question, so far in school I've learned that it is miraculous that things run but the forces that govern markets are natural and we can make colorful charts to prove it.

MAWG on Employment

Uncle Wrunkle:


Last Friday night, my wife and I in a moment of unusual abandon decided to head down to old city Philly and go on a walking ghost tour. We didn't see any ghosts, but we met this dude who gives carriage rides. We talked to him for a while and he gave us his business card. His titles were listed as follows: Historian, Musician, Bard.


That's what I wanna be man. A fucking bard. When I was looking at the degree choices from Penn State, I didn't see "Bard". Why wouldn't you wanna be a bard? I didn't know there were still bards around, but Philly is place where dreams can come true. Especially if you dream of pretzels like I do. "I have my JD from Cornell and work as in-house council for a cutting edge technology firm, what do you do?" "I'm a fucking bard, bitch! I tell stories dramatically, ride a horse through the city at night and rock out on the fucking gee-tar. Deal with it."




James, my friend, you miss the point. A bard is a dramatic story teller. A poet. One of the highlights of my day is when I get an e-mail from you or Nate. Do you think I don't notice the effort you guys put into each of your missives?     If your e-mails don't count as poetry, I don't know what would. In fact, Obama's inauguration would have been much more interesting if instead of that poet they brought on stage who talked about... I don't know, probably starry nights and unicorns; I got to listen to one of you guys discussing the variable length and density of ball hair. (I don't know why that was the first topic that popped into my head, and I'd really rather not analyze it too much).


So, let's compare the great Uncle Wrunkle with the horse fucker you met the other night. He lists his credentials as; "Historian, Musician, Bard." We've covered bard; and since every time you break out your guitar I imagine my wife looking at me like she is supposed to when that Old Spice commercial comes on...


"Look at your husband. Now look at me!"


And from what I understand, your love of the History channel is reaching addiction levels, so I'd say you have Historian covered as well. Throw airplane pilot on top of that and you might as well have just raped that carriage driver in front of his dad. (I don't know where that came from. Let's not analyze that either).


In fact, you could have handed that guy a card back saying, "Historian, Musician, Bard, Pilot, Primary source of income does not involve cleaning up horse shit." We should really get those printed up.



Mensa Flav:


Hear! Hear!


(Unless it is spelled 'Here here!', in which case, Here! Here!)


You totally rock, dude. Everybody Loves Jim. And as much as a computer screen can be a bore to look at, it's probably got 'horse ass' beat as a workplace view.


To test the theory that we can together produce a lyrical ball hair discussion, I'd like to start the process fairly personally by stating that in a completely casual, non-obsessive inspection of my crime scene, I noticed a single almost double length pube. After struggling momentarily with internal conflicts of pride and disharmony, I found myself wondering if Darwin's theory could explain the phenomenon. We don't need to pursue this too far, of course, but fair warning, in homage to Dan's Old Spice reference, I will try to work in the phrase 'clean as a whistle.'



Uncle Wrunkle:


Those emails were like getting man-flowers. And, it's ok to choke up a little when you get man-flowers from your man friends. If we weren't all married to sisters, we could buy an old van and travel around the country and go on adventures like the A-Team. That's how much I love you guys....that I have daydreams about us traveling together and using each other's special skills to beat up bad-guys, build awesome vehicles and help oppressed people who have no one else to call. I wrote a haiku about our A-Team adventure:


Dan and Nate, brothers.

As Soldiers of fortune, fight!

Man-Flowers for me.


After haiku, I'm not sure where to go, but you guys really are the best.



Mensa Flav:


17 syllables of love and violence. Awesome



Uncle Wrunkle:


I like to think of it as a tribute to the male condition. Here's another...


Nate and Dan, sublime

We Brothers swordfighting, stand

Fortress of Jack Juice





This is much more fun than working!


Brothers of MAWG ride

Into the valley of death

Or Applebees booth



Uncle Wrunkle:


Bursting excersize balls more fun!


Don Pablos tex-mex

MAWG visit, aliens land

Coincidence? Hmmm.


MAWG on Genealogy



Hey Jim,


What school are you going to now? I'm working on updating the family tree. I already included the story about how you once killed a bear with your nine inch wang, but figured I should include the educational details too.


Uncle Wrunkle:


The only thing I ever killed with my wang was my participation grade in gym class. Making teenage boys wear sweatpants in a room full of 18 year old girls exercising was just mean.



MAWG on Sociology

Mensa Flav:


Here is the problem with Wikipedia and the Internet and humans in general... There is a lot of weird shit. If we are not finding it, or doing it, we're making it.





I love the weird shit! If it weren't for the weird shit, we'd just be a bunch of white bread eating, American Idol watching flesh drones; which maybe we are most of the time, but then someone says, "Fuck this, I'm building a corn palace."



MAWG on Pest Control



I wanted to get your opinion on exterminators. A butt-load of ants (eww, don't visualize that) have recently taken up residence in our house.   We got some of those ant baits last night, but we're thinking that won't be enough, and we're going to have to get all Marsellus Wallace to their Zed, if you know what I mean. (I originally wrote "get all Zed to their Masellus Wallace, but again, the visual was too disturbing).


Uncle Wrunkle:


Hell yes, go totally Marcellus Wallace on their ass. Iffa ant show up in Indo-China, have a sucka hidin' in a bowl a rice waiting pop a cap in they ass.


Right, that said, if it's a bug-maintenance kinda problem an exterminator will just siphon money from you. Their specialty is if you've got termites, rats falling from the ceiling, 1000's of roaches, etc. For $40 a month, the exterminator will show up once every 3 months, spray the same chemical you can get at Walmart for $13.99 a gallon and place a few sticky paper bug traps around. Oh, and the handsome, clean cut gentleman wearing the bright white Terminix shirt and white hardhat will not be what shows up at your house. Think west philly pretzel vendor exploring every room of your house spraying bug poison that leaves really awful drip marks on your walls.


Anyway, my advice (and what seems to be working for me) is to head to Home Depot and pick up a $7 one-gallon sprayer container, a $25 gallon of Ortho Home Defense Max and a $14.99 container of Amdro Ant Block (granular pellets).


Fill up the sprayer container (to the line) with Ortho, pump it up and spray the entire perimeter of your house. You can try the sprayer nozzle on the bottle itself, but they generally suck real bad. Then take the Amdro ant block and sprinkle a 1 foot wide perimeter around the house, 3 feet in the front garden area where there were tons of ants and liberally around any other trouble spots. It only takes one serving of that stuff to shut down a hive. The worker ants bring it to the queen and then she's like "Mmmmm Hmmmm, this is a tasty burger...*wretch, dramatic death*.."




Thanks! Your e-mail is being added to our home care bible! We're heading to Home Depot tonight!

"Ortho, motherfucker!  Do you speak it!?"
"Ortho, motherfucker! Do you speak it!?"

Uncle Wrunkle:


Please know that next time I'm spraying for bugs I'll be repeating this over and over. Usually i just mutter gleeful expletives while I'm spraying, but this gives me solid direction. Killing bugs is probably my favorite job around the house. Killing a nest of bees is probably the closes thing to a Chucky Cheese experience as I'll ever have in my adult life. It's sad what turns me on anymore...




Just letting you know the Ortho-pocalypse has begun!


Darkness consumed the land as the beast raised his weapon, forged from the bones of the innocent, in the deepest fiery pits of hell...

Plaintive cries for mercy ignored, the destroyer rained liquid fire down upon the chosen colony...

Leaving a token few survivors to tell the tale... to spread the fear...

And to ask why... why were they abandoned by their ant goddess, the great queen mother...



Grizzly (two months later):


GOD DAMN ANTS!! They played it cool. Layed low. Let us think we won. Then they struck at our most vulnerable point... the pantry! They knew just where to hit us.


I was willing to let that be the end. Peaceful coexistence. Them outside, us inside. Well no more. I'm going to get Jacksonian! Prepare yourselves for your own personal trail of tears, motherfuckers!!!!

Smile all you want, asshole! I am going to fuck you so hard up the ass your mandibles will have to make room for my dick!!




Uncle Wrunkle:


"....and lo, the angel said unto John the Ant, 'Ye shall see a shadow stretch upon the land and it shall reign forth a granular deluge that will sicken thy Queen to expiration' and the angel clasped its hands upon its throat and made coughing noises and stuck its tongue out and make icky icky puhkack noises and fell over as to emulate death by poisoning. Then the angel arose and said 'You're fucked' and flew away."


- Ant Book of Revelation

MAWG on Dipthongs



I went to Merriam Webster online to look up the word diphthong. I heard> somebody use it and wanted to know what it meant. I read the definition a few times, and then went and looked it up on another site to see if I could get a better description. I still don't get it. When I first typed it in the search field, I misspelled it, and one of the alternate options it gave me was "dipshit." Which was ironically exactly how I felt when I saw the actual definition of diphthong.



Uncle Wrunkle:


Let's just makeup our own definitions for diphthong. I think diphthong should be a noun to describe people who are all lovey to animals and/or who are all about peace and diversity, but as a person they're rude a-holes. I don't think there's a word for those people.


Alternatively, diphthong could be like when you're endlessly wiping your butt because there's a turd on deck that's down far enough to leave poop on the paper, but not properly seated in the mung launcher.


Like: "Aww man, I wiped my ass raw! I had this frickin' diphthong that wouldn't quit. My choices were; A. Itchy butt and skid marks, B. Sand my asshole off with toilet paper, C. Sit on the toilet until my diphthong finally gets squeezed into a proper turd, during which time my legs will go numb, I will re-enact all of Lethal Weapon and I will stare at the floor tiles for so long that I will hallucinate that I am Godzilla staring at the grid of city blocks.


Mensa Flav:


Unlike you, I will go for the cheap and easy laugh.


Pictured: Dip thong

MAWG on Turning 40



Happy 40th Birthday Nate!


Welcome to the decade which will include:


- Vericose veins (or a similar age related, minor but annoyingly unattractive

  ailment - I have several!)


- Finding out that at least one person you went to high school with is now a



- Celebrating the fact that you slept through the entire night without having to

  get up once to pee


- The slow realization that there are times when you actually prefer a good

  sandwich to sex


- Your daughter entering the dating pool


Live it up, my friend!!



Uncle Wrunkle:


Happy Birthday Nate!!!


I don't know how comfortable you are with the people at work just yet, but hopefully not comfortable enough to where they've bombed your workspace with black balloons and "Lordy Lordy Look Who's 40!" banners. Also, try not to shoot yourself after reading Dan's email above. I almost shot myself as a preemptive measure. As a kind gesture, I thought I'd google "good things about being 40" and present a rebuttal. My advice, don't ever google "good things about being 40". You will shoot yourself in the face. I found this wacko fucking free-verse poem that would have Pat Croce making out with a pistol. I'm only posting this link as reference material, don't click on it!


I kid, I kid. You age lika fina wine-a! You know this!


We love you man, happy birthday!



Mensa Flav:


Dan - Thanks for being there as a sherpa as I climb over that hill.

Once we pull Jim up we can all roll down together. Keep us young until then, Jim.


Jim - Thanks for only making 3 or 5 references to killing myself with whatever type of gun I can get my hands on at this time of the morning before I hit the city line and the restrictions change. I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow.







Did you read the poem Jim linked to? I felt actual pain reading it. I felt as if my soul vomited.



Uncle Wrunkle:


When I read it, I felt like my soul was vomited into by another soul. Was that you??


Seriously, 40 isn't old. I think they call it prime in fact. Now 80, that's when the odometer really clicks. This month, Rachel Hunter and Catherine Zeta-Jones both turned 40, next month Gwen Stefani. Have I undone the 3-5 suicide references yet??




MAWG on The Snuggie



Man, the Snuggie has gotten more attention than any other lame infomercial product I've seen!


Whenever my daughter sees the Snuggie commercial on TV she asks us to get her one. People I know have had heated discussions about the Snuggie ranging from comments like "It looks so cozy!" To "It looks like you joined some kind of cult for retards."


All the attention is making me want one!



Mensa Flav:


yes. lame. and annoying.


All of those products back to Ronco have been a constant shrill interruption in my TV watching. Anyone recall the inside the eggshell egg scrambler?


most of the infomercial products out there claim to solve a problem, but they are actually, of course manufacturing the problem, which has become the very foundation of our economy. I believe that most if not all the kitchen, home life, and personal care products advertised like the super onion chopper, the snuggie, and the unsightly hair trimmer can be replaced with a knife, a blanket, and a razor with much more dependable results.


snuggie - 'so you don't have to take your arms out from under the blanket to use the remote'. Anyone willing to spend money to solve that "problem" needs to not be in control of their finances (sometimes it's me). turn up the heat, put on a sweater, or pick your channels more carefully and commit.


What if we were to make downer commercials that refute the hype of needless products. An anti-snuggie commercial might point out that you don't have to take your arms out of the sleeve of a blanket when you want to go get a snack. You just throw it aside.


Since it is so hot right now, they better come out with the 2 person snuggie before they miss the fascination window. If there is something that 1 person doesn't need, then there is not reason that can't be doubled.





I agree that rampant consumerism has produced a wealth of useless products; the 'In the Egg Scrambler" being one of my favorites; but I'm on the fence about the Snuggie. We have a blanket that we use in the living room while we're watching TV, and it works fine and all that. But say we spilled chocolate milk or poop on it (both very real scenarios) and needed to replace it. The Snuggie is a fleece blanket that sells for $10 (you get one free when you order the 1st one for $20).   That's not a bad cost for a fleece blanket, and you get the bonus of arm holes (if that's your thing).


What I'm saying is; if you need a blanket, and a blanket with arms is even marginally more useful to you than a blanket with no arms, and there is no additional cost, then it makes more sense to get the blanket with arms.


What amazes me though, is the extreme range of emotions this product seems to elicit. What is it about the Snuggie that generates that type of response?



Mensa Flav:


I will always defer to a strict cost value proposition,... if the quality can be verified. There are substandard fleeces out there and they tend to be cheaper. I will go out on a limb here and say, with no foundation whatsoever except my experience inspecting other unused 'As Seen on TV' crap I have later seen at yard sales, some my own, that the Snuggie is cheaply made.


As for the sleeves, I personally think they screw up a perfectly good blanket. In my mind a blanket is more useful if flat and unaccessorized. Sleeves render it less useful for anything other than snuggie-ing. What if you want to throw an eskimo into the air. Those sleeves will just confuse the tribe and could cause a nasty spill. What if you need a quick cover up when you hear her parents coming in the front door? You just want to be able to wrap and run out the back window. Now you have to put your arms into the sleeves, or worse take them out? (how was that working?!) You may as well have stayed dressed or stayed home and watched Cinemax.


Speaking of hands, the real trouble is that the sleeves are half done. What about your hands? When you have a blanket on you, your arms and hands are cozy warm. The Snuggie will really only satisfy someone who was willing to have cold hands in the first place. For those who wish to stay totally warm, it needs gloves too. Think of it! Never having to rub your hands together despite reading in a chilly interior climate. Non-ambulatory schizophrenics and frail dementia patients can sit draped for hours, wailing, arms flailing about, and their hands will never weary of the cold out in the garage.


I know what you're thinking. That's absurd! Gloves go way too far. No one would ever need such an extreme cover up device. It's fine just the way it is. Well just remember, that's what they used to think about the blanket.


Am I the half full or half empty on this one?





"I know what you're thinking. That's absurd!"


Actually, before I got to that comment what i was thinking was, "This is brilliant! We need to market fleece gloves specifically as an accompaniment to the Snuggie!"


I can picture the commercial; "You love your Snuggie, but what about your hands? You've tried everything..." This is accompanied by a video of a dude in his Snuggie, blowing into his hands, sitting on them, rubbing them together. "Now we have the answer! New, Snuggie Gloves!" or .... Gluggies? Snug-loves?


Now that I've typed it out, I am absolutely certain this will become a real product sometime soon.



MAWG on Public Restrooms

Uncle Wrunkle:


When I case my digs, I have to know where I can play my bottom music and not sound like Jurassic Park in an adjacent theater. We all have our needs.



Uncle Wrunkle:


I’m sorry, I had all of these alternatives to “play my bottom music and not sound like Jurassic Park in an adjacent theater” that I just have to get out, otherwise they’ll get all green and mushy in my mental refrigerator. Here goes.


A place where I can:


Kick a pirate and not sound like Chinese New Year


Crush a rabbit and not give an intimate interpretation of the musical Stomp


Smart the shart and not wake the tart


Debate the mexican and not alert the Fedaralis


Strum the bass and not blow a speaker


Have an ass party without the cops showing up


Just thought I’d share….





Brilliant! They were all so good I I couldn't pick a favorite. I sat here trying to come up with my own....


A place where I can:


Release Kal-el from the Phantom Zone


Target a heat seaker to avoid collateral damage


Rig the sub for silent running


Struggle with Gollum at the cracks of Mount Doom


Eh, that's all I came up with.



Uncle Wrunkle:


Those were gorgeous! “Rig the sub…” has inspired this and few other off-shoots:


- Scuttle the Love Boat


- Surface Das Boot


- Fire an air torpedo


- Depth charge a shit fish


- Keelhaul my underwear


- Spongebob my squarepants


- Squidward my drawers


- Whistle my brown eye


- Blow my turd call



The last two weren’t very nautical, my bad.



Mensa Flav:


Ahh, classy friends. The Queen should be so lucky as I.  


A place where I can: (deep breath)...



Spark the winds of change without tooting my own horn.


Cook an egg sandwich without rattling the pans.


Nominate a candidate before the media gets wind of it.


La-la, but not palooza.


Settle a raging chimp.


Talk to the G-20 and not cause a riot.




Shiver me timbers without crunching barnacles.



MAWG on Re-branding

Uncle Wrunkle:


When did ping pong paddles become "blades"?? WTF is that?? It's a paddle!! Calling it a "blade" does not make it bad-ass. It's ping pong. You cannot make ping pong bad-ass. It's like the biker from the Village People. Are hardcore bikers a little bad-ass? Yeah, sure. Are the Village People bad-ass because they have a biker? Fuck no! Which brings me to my next point: why is there a "turbo" VW beetle? So you can think you're Jeff Gordon in a purpose built hippie hauler?? I could go on...



Mensa Flav:


Here are 3 other 'bas-ass' sounding words we can work into our mundane daily lives in a better branding sort of way to both pump ourselves up and to intimidate the masses:






no wait,... make that last one... power.


butter knife becomes butter bayonet

dishwasher is the dish hammer

toilet is the power flume





I'm using "power flume." I don't care if it catches on with anyone else.



MAWG on Fine Dining





I heard you dined at Doc Hopper's this weekend. Frog legs? You'll be eating pastries and surrendering to Germans soon... How was it?



Uncle Wrunkle:


Dude....wait, there's a fast-food froglegs joint?? In the mall??!?!


I don't know what I was thinking. It was one of those things like, jeez when am I gonna be able to try frog legs again? It's a nice restaurant, i'm sure they'll be tasty! I'm sure that they wouldn't just cut the ass off a frog, boil it and put it on my plate, right??


Dead wrong. They cut the ass off a frog, boiled it and served it to me while saying something like "Monsieur, quaa bon fannaa a bon banaaa faaa quaa naah, bon appetit!


Fuck you Louis. This tastes bad. It's like a little baby chicken stared into the eyes of Soy Medusa, was turned into tofu, then you lopped off his little legs and boiled them for $25. Don't you have any garlic back there? What about salt? If you fry skunk cock in garlic and butter it will taste like Rose McGowan's nipples.


This tastes like pasty meat discarded from a Chinese restaurant, boiled and stuffed with sticky cartilage. Wait, back up a sec. Did you say "sticky cartilage"?? Yes. Yes i did. Scores of little bits of super sticky frog cartilage that stick to your teeth while you're trying to eat your plate of swamp trash. So sticky in fact that I had to artfully scrape the little bits of frog joint off my teeth while trying not to look like a hillbilly in a stuffy french restaurant. I should have ordered the french fries and french toast. At least they're not made of bug protein.


Have you guys ever dined on the frog??





Doc Hopper's Frog Legs is actually a restaurant from the Muppet Movie. Doc Hopper was the dude trying to get Kermit to perform in his commercials. The basic premise of the movie is that asking a dude to help you sell his dead relative's body parts for consumption is kind of a dick move.


Nope, I have never tried frog legs, and never will. I will add that to fried duck to begin my list of "things Jim has eaten so I'll never have to." I'll need you to try some bull testicles next.



Mensa Flav:


How was the wedding event? Sounds like someone thought a French restaurant would be fun. Silly folks. The French aren't fun.


I had frog legs once, but it was a much different venue. Closer to pub than restaurant. It was an appetizer and it was basically another chicken wing type option. Served fried with a little hot sauce, blue cheese, and celery. It tasted like... Wait for it... Wings.


I expect we will need to determine the other sub plots and sub texts of the Muppet Movie. I'll start.


-- All your friends are freaks and that's cool. But watch out for the pig.


-- Vaudeville gets a bad rap. Respect the running gag.


-- Oh! I get it! It's like they're not really even animals or puppets - they're us!


I don't know exactly why, but the folks on those adventure food shows rave and moan over various testicles and the like, but somehow I don't feel the need to dive in. Stranded, nothing else to eat, and lots of spices, and maybe. But in that case, you have to figure, if you are getting the balls, you obviously had to kill the bull. Might as well skip over to the filet.





I was in London with friends, and while we were out to lunch one afternoon I, enjoying things both sweet and bread-like, ordered "sweetbread." Upon finishing my meal, one friend took great joy in informing me that I actually ate sheep brains. I was disgusted and dismayed until later in the day, when we met up with another friend who took great joy in telling me that sweetbread was in fact testicles. At that point I longed for the time when I thought I ate brains. She then instant messaged the whole story to still more friends (some in California, some in Asia); so that I could at that moment say people around the world were discussing how my gastronomical adventure impacted my sexuality.


I have since learned that sweetbread is actually made from the thymus and/or pancreas of a sheep, pig or cow. Not knowing what the thymus and pancreas do, I couldn't comment on their impact to my sexual preferences.



Mensa Flav:


How were they?





Best damn thymus I ever ate.



MAWG on Dignity



I was reading this celebrity blog, and they had this story about Jon and Kate Gosselin, with a picture of them filming an episode. The post started out with this comment:


"Because dignity pays jackshit..."


For some reason, probably because it can be applied in SO many cases, this really resonated with me. I can see it on a T-shirt.



Mensa Flav:


Nice guys finish last.


I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.


The superior man understands what is right; the inferior man understands what will sell.


The rich man is always sold to the institution which makes him rich.


Absolutely speaking, the more money, the less virtue.



Uncle Wrunkle:


Right, I couldn't agree more with that statement. I see the most shameless acts of rudeness and elitism from who??? The brass. Being a prick seems to pay well. As soon as I learn how to be an asshole, my wife and I will finally be able to start a family. I need to make this my new mantra. Lets make a self help tape built around this very premise:


"Breathe deeply and repeat after me, 'dignity pays jack-shit, dignity pays jack-shit. If I want to get anywhere in life, I must skewer the weak and ineffective. My feelings are more important than the feelings of others. When I am in traffic, I will drive my car right up the ass of the guy in front of me no matter how fast he is going. When people sneeze and I say 'God bless you' I look like a weakling. When I see someone carrying a giant load of shit in their hands and they can't open the door, I will stand behind them and wait for them to open the door for me and make a face as if to say 'I don't have all day..jeez'. When I make eye contact while passing someone in the hallway and they say 'Good Morning', I will look at them like they are the fat kid in gym class and say nothing. I will treat the cleaning lady like the piece of human shit that she is and talk to her in a slow and demeaning way, ignoring the fact that she was a former paramilitary member and had to escape her communist home country by paddling here on a raft she made of styrofoam hamburger containers. Start to feel the tension leaving your body starting from your toes....up to your ankles......into your knees....."





OK, my original thought when I read the phrase, "Dignity pays jackshit..." wasn't of people who behave in the assholic way Jim describes, it was more of people like the Gosellin's who whore themselves out for money and attention.   That then begs the question, does behaving like an asshole to others rob the asshole of his/her own dignity? I suppose that depends on whether dignity is an intrinsic or extrinsic value. Do we assign dignity to others or do we each assign our dignity to ourselves?


Sasha Baron Cohen is a good example to use in this question. If I dressed in the Borat thong bathing suit and went to the beach, I would feel less 'dignified,' but I doubt Sasha sees it that way. He is more likely proud of the fact that others found him so funny. So in that sense the same action can have either a positive or negative impact on a person's sense of dignity, depending on the person performing the action.


So if I see a person for example treating a waitress like shit, I might think, "That dude is an asshole," and consider his actions as lacking in dignity. He however wouldn't see it the same way.   Possibly the waitress wouldn't see it the same way either. She might think he is an asshole, but still feel shame that a guy like that is allowed to treat her that way because of her job, so his assholic behavior negatively impacts her dignity.



Mensa Flav:


I started to grey the lines with 'nice guys finish last' because to me, as soon as you start trading in your dignity chips to do whatever is asked or required for a payoff, it is a short trip back to the teller window and you're next going to trade in your humanity chips, your altruism chips, and your soul chips, because papa needs a new pair of shoes. In fact, papa has all kinds of needs and where is the virtue is doing well enough with what was enough last week? This week, you need better right? And then much better, much sooner. Let's face it, if you decided to swap personal privacy and pimp your kids for the sweet life and financial "security," then it better keep coming and you better be gleefully surprised at every nice next new thing or you will be pissed off that you gave up that which cannot be retrieved and you still have this empty feeling... That's what she said.


Disclaimer: Not all who make the deal with the devil fall so far. But most. I like nice things, too. I also have American waste guilt and I know my happiness is not tied to the stuff. I am happy to sell out like Picasso sold out, doing what I love and what comes naturally. But I haven't yet seen the spam or pop-up ad offering big money for being a wise ass with a short attention span. I started to look for it one day, but then I saw something shiny.


My point is this...


You have to be true enough to yourself when you commit to the deed, or you will abandon all of yourself and blame everything else, and we've all met these assholes.


Now to the posit:


Is there any way to absolutely judge dignity spent or remaining? The contributing factors would need to be identified and considered. A hospice nurse may have to perform wholly undignified tasks. Her gains are monetary and perhaps emotionally rewarding. But it is way different than what Bruno does. Who should be paid more? What does our society really value. Apparently, we are more comfortable with simulated or ironic humiliation, rather than real human desperation. It's that escapist thing probably.



MAWG on Nipples and Ass (not nearly as sexy a post as you might be expecting)

Mensa Flav:


Now I have to steer my nipples away from metal objects. Let me explain.


I was getting up from my cube. I rounded the corner out the gate (I like to think of the cube as not just a punitive cell, but perhaps a starting point in a long long horse race). And as I cleared the entry, my nipple was apparently the closest part of my body to the metal frame of the pseudo-wall, and all the static charge that had apparently built up between my ass and the seat, the floor and me, and the desk and my elbows was released on an excruciatingly precise piece of nipple.


Luckily, I did not outwardly shriek like a girl. Inside I sure as hell did. I may have done it out loud. Who the hell knows. However, an astute observer would definitely have seen me wearing an expression of helplessness and subtly massaging my tit.


Just another hazard of life. Thank God I've lived this long to learn of this and tell others how to avoid it. Who knows the pain and shame this will spare.





I almost passed out from the massive crap I took today. I wasn't going to share that but since we're no longer checking passports at our individual social boundaries, I figure what the hell.


Nate, are you saying the force of the static was strong enough to penetrate fabric, or does your employer just have a particularly loose dress code?


P.S. I was only half joking. I can barely sit down. My ass feels like it was used as the launch point for 4th of July fireworks.



Uncle Wrunkle:


What is wrong with our asses lately?!?


I had a Special Forces crap today. First, a nice big poop in the morning. Give it a good wiping and you're set until tomorrow. I have a cup of coffee and a cigarette at about 10:30am. Oh no! There's one more in there! A Special Operative, waiting until the regular army marches away to stay behind a do the real damage. Wiping up the second poo of the day sucks!!! My ass is hopelessly raw until next week, provided i don't keep hatching twins. Stupid poop.





I now have images of a poop setting explosives in my ass.

 Copyright 2010, TM – Don’t even try it biach!