Tag Archives: Gary Larson

When I die. Boobs and booze … seriously boobs and booze, or so I hope.


We all die.  We all also poop so the statement that we all die is about as shocking as that, when you boil it down.  Also the sun will rise tomorrow.

I want to give very specific instructions here about what should happen when I finally pass but realize, “well fuck I’ll be dead” so do whatever you want to with my dead ass.

I’ll give guidance and hope it’s followed.

Let’s just launch into that list and see who is in charge of what …

Adrian Schulte and Sarah Leslie get to pick the music.    I hope they fight over it, honestly I do, but they get to choose the tunes.    Back off peeps, I decreed from up above they get the final say.  If they pick anything by Celine Dion then that’s what it is.   They are further authorized to tattoo my dead body but only with Gary Larson “Far side” tattoos … they know what that means.

They also have to pick a wake venue that equals slip-and-slide level awesome but also incorporates hot tubs.  I suggest slip and slide into a hot tub but you’re both in charge.

yeah I have a woman I can turn too when I need a quick turnaround, original cleavage shot … don’t you?

yeah I have a woman I can turn too when I need a quick turnaround, original cleavage shot … don’t you?

Gina Gray I bequeath you ‘toplessness’.  Meaning you don’t have to be topless but I demand, DEMAND in the sense that I will haunt every woman that disobeys this order, all the women be topless during my wake.  Small tits, don’t care.  Big tits, don’t care.  Floppy tits, not an issue at all either.  I want all tits on full display at my wake.   Gina make this so.  GG … you have awesome tits, be the only chick at the wake with a top on.  You are authorized three other “exempt” rulings.    Use them wisely.

Rob Gowen also has to follow Gina around the entire time wearing flip flops, boxer shorts and a brown tee-shirt with a bottle of hair gel demanding of everyone, “where is my hair gel.” This will make me happy as I look on from the ever-after.

Mike Gianeeeteee …. You sir will ensure everyone is drunk as shit. 

If my grave isn’t muddy with beer (and piss) you fucked up. 

Don’t fuck up. 

Someone has to later donate me to a medical college.   I want college kids who will later view my autopsied corpse to go “HOLY fuck those lungs are torn up.  That is the most fucked up liver I ever saw and holy shit that’s a big dick!  Which is also why I expect Ray Coley to … never mind.

I want Nick Sternberg and Jerry O’hara to shoot 9 mm (13 rounds) in to the air, Saddam Hussein style … while drinking beers.

Ruth Sternberg has to ensure my foreskin is reattached.  If my foreskin cannot be located, she gets to direct a reenactment of that Monty Python skit where a ton of topless chicks chase a condemned man over a cliff.   I suggest you get Rick Bumgardner to help with the camera work.

I also give Rick my collection of plastic army men and dinosaurs.

I expect Maggie and Alex to supervise it all, I suggest an elaborate system utilizing clipboards, reading glasses, annoying whistles and safety vests. Don’t forget disapproving looks when some lady shows up and refuses to be topless.

Darcy Debase, bet you didn’t see this coming, you have to cater it.     I liked ribs.  So it should be ribs.  You should also be topless, figure it out.

Side note to Gina: There are no pasties allowed (Darcy will totally try to weasel out that way). 

Gina already knows this.  I’m just reinforcing the message.

Bron Berry has to show up and proclaim, “Holy boobs!”  You also have to announce a best tits winner.    From the crowd I mean.

Maggie and Alex will have to organize a best boobs contest, because that’s how I would have wanted it and because I just wrote that thing about Bron being a boobie judge and crap.

Dagmar, one year after my death, has to go online to buy something and surf for the highest price.  If she finds the same spatula for sale for $20 and $40 she has to buy the $40 one.   She also has to yell out during the wake, “That mother fucker fucked me again!”  I’ll be giggling from the afterlife I assure you.

Val Henderson and Lynn Davis will print out every post on this blog and hand correct, with red pen, the untold millions of grammatical, spelling and WTF errors.   They will then pass them out to the people in attendance.  They’ll be topless so you won’t mind.

Mike Lavigne has to take over this blog.   He also has to rename it, “Was that Todd dude a dick or what?”  I’d suggest asking Jesse for ideas Mike.

Matt and Marni Sandberg have to proclaim loudly during the funeral while whatever Christian priest you all pick is talking, “I thought he was Jewish?”

Mel Raymond and Mellissa Novakovich are in charge of snark, turn it up to 11 ladies.   They’ll understand why they were paired the minute they meet.  Also fuck you both.

Chad Oliver gets my remote control helicopter IF he promises to annoy Amanda once a week with it.

Eric and Bianca get my beer fridge, full circle kids.

Little Edward Oliver gets a car.  Nothing that exceeds like 30K IN TODAY’S prices so don’t be bankrupting my widow.   Also if he doesn’t have one, his own computer.

Leila and Jill get all revenues from my many super top-secret iPhone game ideas.   Hint they all suck and will garner like $2 at best.

Bucky, start raising funds now, this is gonna cost us.  By us I mean you.   I want a shit ton of hot tubs …

‘Merica f’ yeah part 2, Tractors, good food, nice people and … HOLY CRAP IS THAT A FAKE BABY?


I have to admit, I was stumped. 

While “’Merica … F’ Yeah!  HOLY CRAP America its food, booze, anger and food — deep fried thoughts from Baltimore” blew away my previous best days here (I hate Valentine’s Day” and the always popular “naked in a mixed gender German sauna”) people were asking for the upstate New York update.   There were emails and a few personal requests.    

So basically seven of you read it … each of you will recieve your $10 check as promised.

I tried, honestly I tried.  Back home here Germany safe and sound in my own house, in my own bed I thought and I thought.  But really what the hell is funny about upstate New York? 

Answer: nothing.

That the lady at the diner near my Dad’s girl friend’s house called me honey while refilling my coffee that was sort of funny.   My Dad’s girl friend’s daughter Darcy DiBaise puts on an awesome dinner party (better than Dagmar and I ever could), that’s not funny.  She’s pretty funny and her five year old daughter Mia throws a mean left hook but the situation isn’t funny. 

Everyone makes really good home cooked food, not funny.  Everyone is super nice, also not funny.  

Everyone is FUCKING nice.   Aunts, uncles, cousins, spouses of cousins (cousins-in-law?) are all nice and further everyone is a lawyer, doctor or about to be elected president.  Shit what’s funny about that?  Also please don’t sue me.

Dagmar was not impressed

If there's ever a job for driving tractors up and down hills, I'm your man

My dad likes tractors, so much so that he bought one.   Well its farm country so what’s so funny about the fact that he bought, restored and uses a tractor in his retirement to plow snow, mow brush and tinker?  

It wasn’t a funny ride. 

So there you go.  Upstate New York, YOU’RE NOT FUNNY, in fact you’re a bit boring but I think you like it that way.  Hell, I think I like it that way.  

8-month-olds sit still for no camera, they're rebels like that.

8-month-olds sit still for no camera, they're rebels like that.

To top it off I had a great time , I met my nephew for the first time Edward Oliver and Dagmar immediately set off to kill Diane’s dog with rigorous death marches because she hates animals.

Maybe there’s a cow joke in here somewhere but Gary Larson I ain’t.

So basically I was stuck. Until yesterday when Dagmar came home from the gym and showed me this clip from the Today Show.

Please take the next six minutes and watch this clip.   I’m willing to risk your going away and not coming back because that clip is just the bizarre.

Okay, did you watch it?   If you’re at all like me right about now you’re thinking about suicide, gouging your eyes out our becoming Amish.   Basically, anything that will prevent that kind of news from entering your brain ever again you’re in favor of … amiright?

Jesus that's fucking retarded!

Jesus that's fucking retarded!

At about 1 minute in we get to look into Becky’s charming idea of fun freaking out older people with her fake baby.    Becky you’re going to give one of those women a heart attack with those shenanigans so knock it the hell off!    Also Becky I seriously suspect you should have your IQ tested and I’m fearful that you vote.    We know, that you know, it’s a doll and that makes it just that much fucking retarded. 

Then there’s Dori and Gary, who have their own goddamn real-life kids and grandkids by the way.   Gary.  Gary, Gary, Gary … Jesus man what happened to you?   You still have that penis right?   I mean okay I get it, she’s your wife and it’s worth it to you not to bitch about the dolls but don’t let her drag you to the convention for Christ’s sake.  What were you thinking sir?

Let’s take this quote from Fran Sullivan, who is SIXTY FUCKING TWO by the way.

“Children talk to their dolls, and they express their feelings toward their dolls,” she told Lauer. “And as a 40- or 50- or 60-year-old woman, you do the same thing. You’re still the same person you were when you were an 8-year-old.”

Maybe you’re the same person you were when you were 8 Fran?   Mentally it seems very likely you are the same as an 8-year-old but 60 year olds DO NOT TALK TO DOLLS AS IF THEY WERE REAL PEOPLE.   Fuck what’s next, a little show and tell with bobby in the janitor’s closet.

Did you catch old Becky and Karen about four minutes into the story? 

Oh boy! 

You know I’ve met Ann Curry.  She’s awesome, really nice, and friendly and I cannot understand how she kept herself from punching these two chicks back into reality.   I think she skipped part of the question she wanted to ask when she says “what made you want to have these dolls?”  I think she meant, “other than being bat-shit insane and obviously borderline retarded, what made you want to have these dolls?”

Not to call into question Ann’s professionalism but I think she missed a few questions.   Questions such as, this is all big joke to get on TV right?   Are both of you fucking kidding me?   Who let you into our studio?  I bet Katie Fucking Couric doesn’t have to do stupid shit like this and Are you all just really mad at your husbands and using these dolls as some sort of revenge?

When I first saw this I assumed it was an April Fools’ joke.  I was secretly hoping Mall Lauer would run in at the end of the segment and violently slay the dolls with a chainsaw or that Ann would, mid interview, reach over grab a doll and bite its head off. 

That, obviously and sadly, didn’t happen.