Skippy's Back is Here!

Hello to you new fans and followers of Fleedsplotch.

Skippy have just been informated that he is being followed by 30 new follower persons of which is nice.  "Ask Skippy the Genius Guy" is who Skippy answer questions d'jour of the earth anytime day, a or 24 hours a night.

Skippy has a metal plate in his head and lives with Mama, the twins of his dead sister, and his cat, Mr. Whiskers  the VIIII, who may be a Chupacabra.

So just ask and get smarter it is.

Fondly,
Skippy The Genius Guy

Skippy Sez: Snyder Done Does It Again

Skippy thinks that Don Snyder, the owner and chef of the Washington Redscums will dance with the one who brang him as soon as NFL Free Allegory starts February 27th-ish.

Remember last year when the Redscums traded two picks (nose and water) to the Miami Dolphins, (formerly the Renault Dauphines)? Huh? Huh? In exchange for those toothpicks, the Marine and Puce only received the runner-oops from the last “Dancing with the Stars” TV show.

That prayer, Defensive End Jasmine Taylor, quickly began injuring his extremities. First he had Planter’s Fascitititititis, which means your foot hurts. Then he hurt his knee. How? Fried. No, wait, wrong joke. Actually, Taylor’s knee got badly hyper-extenuated when he arrived so late trying to make a tackle, the next play had already started.

Next Taylor completed the Hat Truck of injuries when his calf got Compartmentilization Sitdown. That’s when a player drives himself to the hospital in the middle of the night to garner sympathy for himself but not, ironically, for Jennifer Garner, who is smokin’ hot.

Here’s what Skippy thinks. (If he’s wrong, blame the nascent science of Plate Tectonics.) See, Don Snyder has been out of the sportlight spurtlight for years. Well, except to remind us now and then that he can’t draft or hire someone who can, can’t win, can’t trade, and can’t run an amusement park which rises bold and stark while kids huddle on the beach in a mist. Also, he picked the wrong Scientologist as his movie buddy.

So Skippy thuswise stinks Synder will look to make a major splatdown by trading away the farm for extensive Free Agencies who will disappoint fans or disappear or both. Turns out getting Taylor in time to channel the fading career of Bruce Smith was just a warmup.

Look for Snyder to trade his #1 pick this year and next year for a Baltimore Oriole linebacker, plus spend $80 million more for Alan Haynseworth, defensive tickle of the Tittans or defensive end Julius Caesar of the Carolina Pinchers.

Whichever one they get will eat himself out of horse and home and/or plan a second career as an Hollywood Action Herpes. Skippy believes in the old Scottish expression "Stay the Gorse" and build threw the daft.

Skippy the Analyist Anals the Redskims

Well here it is with the Supper bowl approaching, and Skippy’s favorite fubbal team has had it’s dopes and schemes cruelly flushed down the porcelain convenience.

So it’s about time Skippy waited in on what the heck is wong with the Wredskins. After all, it is the post-seasoning beyotching Season of the Year, footballwisedlyspeaking.

Let's stop with the front orifice. First of leave, stop picking on Vinny Ceratini for not being sorry for his mistooks. The guy started his own radio show, and that has keeped him two busy to apologize for his incompetence. Just like George Bush W. I’m sure when the Redskims General Mangler in Chief of Charge of Footballs and Operations gets fired from his radio show he’ll have plenty of time to ‘splain to fans why he is such a yutz. (Yutz is a Jewish word for Schmuck, which is a Jewish word for Putz.)

Let’s start with last year when hops were higher than Cheech Marin with pocketful of blunts. Okay, so Vinny dafted three guys who can’t walk and chew gum at the same time to goose up the passing attack and that ended up giving HIM the bird. One can’t wake up, one can't line up, one can’t stand up without his knees turning into mushmellons.

He also dafted a corner botch who is 5’2” and couldn’t cover Alaska with snow during a hurricane of snow only colder which water has to be to be snow and a hurricane doesn’t have it but Skippy can’t think of the word for Blizzard.

The punter he dafted is now working at a Seven-11, which ironically was the average length of his punts--seven foots, eleven inches, plus Federal Exercise Tax.

Also, he traded for Peg Leg Bates to play defendible end. Twice. First there was Irritable James, a one legged guy who lives in a hospital. His best rush technique was hoping the QB got injured, then sneaking into the ER and hitting him over the head with a bedpan.

The other bozo was a 55-year-old tap dancer, who is 6’6” 120 pounds, and who worked out in the off-season with Rita Moreno . Vinny managed to swindle him away for only a 2nd round pick despite demands by Miami for an eighth-rounder and a bag of beer nuts.

Jason the Tailor spent the season in the whirlypool, on the bench or in the ‘skins defensive backfield, where he usually got blocked to. He plans to spend this off-season on the Gaza, Strip-dancing with Joe the Plumber.

Vinny also mangled to sign Bill Clinton Portis as lifetime running back at a crap figure so high, he can never be fired, which encourages him to be shellfish and nut a team prayer.

Meanwhile, Don Snyder refusals to hire a general mangler whose religion doesn’t forbid the dafting of linemen.

This is whay the Redskims suck. Again.

Skippy's Holiday Letter and Fruitcake

Dear Friend, Dead Relative and/or Creditor,

Hi. My Name is Skippy and I have a metal plate in my head. I live in a Doublewide in a Trailer Park with Mama and the twins of my former dead sister, plus our cat “Mr, Whiskers IV,” just down the row from Floyd the Truck Drivin’ Man. I really really like Lemon Meringue Pie

This is Skippy’s Anal Christmas Letter, which also doubles as his Christmas Card and is also in lieu of a fruitcake, too, which no one gets this year, praise the Load. So, Firstly-wise, Skippy wishes all and yours a Meretricious or Chanooka or Ginsu, or Ramalamadingdog, or whichsoever your Faith of Preference is.

Secondly-wise, Skippy is fat busted this year like Pamela Anderson. So busted that a scammed artist broke into Skippy’s blank account and left a note saying, “Sorry to have bothered you.” And Skippy’s not the Lone Arranger in hat irregardless. The empire country pf USA as a hole is in a Repression because of George Bush “W’s” Presidential Recrimination. Bush, his President of Vice, Dork Cheney, and their Fart Cat buddies stealed from the poor and give to them selfs. Now everybody, for richer or poorer, has gotten their ass handed to them in a cocked hat and the black guy has to clean it up.

Meanwhile as the daze dwindle down to a precious few in the Bush Caporegime, George W has been on a farewell tool collecting going away presents and Awards. For instance, the American Organ Meat Association just honored him with its prestigious “Liverwurst President Ever” Prize. Then Bush went to Baghdad and was given a t-shirt reading: “I Destroyed an entire Nation and All I Got Was a Used Pair of Shoes.”

It have been a grimed year for Skippy and his or her loved ones.

Skippy’s best fiend, Floyd, the Truck Drivin’ Man, who has lived at the Trailer Park since 1982, had his brand new Peterbilt almost repossessessed. The bank had just started the process when they got bankruptured themself. They took his bilt, but Floyd got to keep his Peter.

Meanwhile, Mama’s 401(k) has all but disappeared. Now we knows what the “(k)” stand for. It stands for “Krap.” The only thing that has not shrinked down to nothing in Mama’s world is her Goiter. It recently replaced Pluto as both the 18th Planet in the Sonic System and Mickey’s favorite dog.

The twin offsprung of Skippy’s dead sister have seen their collage fund been spent on frivolous needs like food, shelter and drugs. Because of the finagle disaster, Mama has had to cut back on her Medico Marijuana, which leaves less weed for the twins to steal, which caused them to be depressed, which qualified them for their own Medical Marijuana to treat their depression, which cured them of their depression so they couldn’t get no more medical marijuana, which depressed them again, which qualified them for more medical marijuana which enabled this sentence to win the Nobel Peach Prize for Endless Roundelays.

Then there is Skippy’s kittycat, “Mr. Whiskers IV.” Because of hard times Mr. Whiskers has
been reduced to eating cat food, just like Mama.

In medical gnus, Skippy recently had emergency surgery to have the mental plate in his head removed, rotated, degaussed, relined, chopped, channeled, lowered, louvered, and reinserted back in his dome. Post surgery, Skippy is very confused, utterly befuddled, dangerously disoriented, badly bewildered, disturbingly dizzy and agonizingly addlepated. In other words, good as new.

Skippy would like to thanks his Doctor, Vincent Boombatz, of the Philadelphia Boombatzes, for his excellent work while sedated. And by that, Skippy means Skippy was sedated, not Dr. Boombatz. Dr. Boombatz was drunk.

And finally, as the Year of Our Load, 1929, comes to an Merciful Contusion, Skippy wishes you and yours from his and hers, a Fastidious Festivus and a Hoppy New Year, if there is one.

Fondly,

Skippy

Redskim Mid-Sesion Reprot: Pt. 1 Defense

Skippy has recently have had his mental plate removed, rotated, repolished and regrooved before being re-intercepted into Skippy’s Skull Dome. The cracked Surgeon, Dr. Vinnie Boombatz promised no slide efforts.

So here is Skippy’s recession of the Skins session to date, at the Buy-week. Skippy celebrates his buy week by buying a vowel, new skivvies and a hooker. (The hooker is for Ma, who wears them out doing her needlepoint.)

D-Fence

Defensive Backfielders: Horton Hears a Who is an unmitigated success and could be Rookie of the Beer. He matripulated at UCLA (Unusual Collection of Lousy Athletes) and was daft in the seventh ground, but has been an unquantified success. Rookie Careen Moor has been okay but rookie J.T Tryon couldn’t cover a sofa with ten yards of upholstery.

Sam Springs hurt his cusp muscle and covers the bench. Fred Snoot walks the talk but doesn’t always talk the walk. Carlos Scissorhands has been very good in coverage but couldn’t catch a cold with a mosquito net and a salad-shooter. Skippy read about DeAngelo Hall, but he thinks that’s a campus dormitory.

Linedbackers: London Calling is one of the best aground. Rocky Mountaintop recovered from season saving surgery last year and has been very good. George Washington gets donged a lot, and H.B. Ginsu fills in for him.

Defensive Line: The ‘skins traded for Jason Taylor in case a dance class broke out at Redskim Park. He’s been hurt ever since, probably because he weighs about 150 pounds. Dermatitis Evans is the team’s Saks leader. Kenston Gobstop leads the team at Sears. Monty Wooley leads the team at Wal-Mart. Andre Carter is pretty good, but unspectacled. Cornelius Bennett bursts into tears during team prayers and treast his teammates to a postgame rubdown. Eraserhead James plays about as often as Jesse James, who’s been dead for a century.

The defense is 4th in the League which is the best in the league except for the other three.

Next Up: My lunch. Then, folowing lunch, The Offense Half of the Team.

PS: Skippy realizes that the picture is of Redskim Cheerbreeders. But skippy voted and the results were who wants to look at fat old sweaty football players?

Skippy's Pre-game Redskin Speech

Skippy Gzitzman, owner/operator of this website, has been given the rare honor of presenting a locker room motivational speech to the Washington Redskins before their opening game against the Superbowl Champion New York Giants. The following is a transcript of that speech. The original is on display at the Smithsonian.
Dearly Beloved,

Hi, my name is Skippy and I have a mental plate in my head. I live with Mama, the twins of my dead sister and my cat, Mr. Whiskers IV, in a FEMA doublewide down from Floyd the Truck Drivin’ Man and his Peterbilt. I really really like Lemon Meringue pie.

Skippy have been asked by Head Coach-for-Now Zim Jorn to give this Motivationary Speak to you Redskims before tonight’s game.

If you're nervous, just keep in mind the guys in the other locker room put on your pants the same way you do, only first they grease ‘em up with Crisco and KY Jelly.

Don't forget, that tonight is the day you take the bull by the shorts, strap him up, and face the music with your ear to the grimestone. Play them “One Day at a Time” although Skippy prefers “The Golden Girls,” 10 PM weeknights on TBS.

In the immoral words of that genius, Norman Einstein, never have so many done so much for so few and vice versa. Rumyard Kipling once wroted in his poem, Want some Candy, Kid?--“If you can get some head when all about you are losing theirs, congratulations, you may already be a winner.”

Today’s contest is not the end of the beginning, nor the beginning of the end. It is merely the beginning of the end of the beginning of the end, unless it rains.

Remberith thith: If a man gains the world but loseth his immoral soles, what doth it profit him in the end, unless he be jellin’?

Don’t think just because they won the Super Bowl that Giants don’t play football. Bowling is a lot like football except it’s played indoors, and it has alleys and bigger balls. Speaking of bigger balls, as the late Coach Vince Lumbago once said earlier, “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight that counts, but enough about Michael Vick.”

But seriously, folks, this is what we practice for, except the guys who were cut, who practiced for little more than whatever tape they could filch.

In closing, don’t forget to tip your towel boy, tighten your jocks and clocks, and remember, win or lose, someone will emerge victorious. And it is Skippy’s firm hose that the Redskims will be the winners tonight. If not, at least make sure the Giants don’t cover. Now get out there and win one for the Giffords.

Finally, if I can leave you with but one thought, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.

Skippy Helps You Get Gassed

How can I save Gas and Increase Mileage?—H. Ford, Dearborn, MI.

Skippy is dewing his part to avoid Gobular Climax Change by making his trips to the pie shop more few and getting most of his same pie also at the same time too. Skippy really really likes Lemon Meringue Pie.

Skippy also axed Floyd, the truck Drivin’ Man, for some tips but he was passed out in his Peterbilt in a Diuretic Comma from all the pie.

So here is Tippy’s Gas Skips.

*Sometimes when you drive, don’t take your car, drive a bike instead. This saves gas.

*Because energy is dispensated when you put on your breaks, remove your breaks from your car. Try not to hit things, but remember if you do, when your car is in the repair shop, you can’t drive it. This saves gas.

*Use your horn and stick your head out the window and yell, “Out of the way, Fathead, I have no breaks.”

*Because gas expounds when temperatures are lower, fill your car in the early morning hours, preferably before the gas station opens. This will save you money.

*Buy several hundred propeller beanies and epoxy them to the hood of your car. The aerial windage created by the spinning propellers can be compensated into renewable energy.

*Instead of headlights, use a flashlight. This saves electricity.

*Move to a hilltop, coast down the hill and winch your car back up. This saves gas.

*A mixture of half gas, half turpentine, and half Old Time Lemonade mix can be used instead of Hi Test if you’re not that fond of your engine.

*If you don’t want solar panels on the roof of your car for atheistic reasons, put them on the bottom instead and flip your car over at night when you aren’t using it, so your solar pan…no wait, that won’t work. Never mind.

*Hitchhike. If more people hitchhiked fewer people would drive alone and there would be more sex between conmuting adults and adulturers. While you are pulled over “Doing it,” you save gas.

*Cow farts.

*Buy a slicker for your car. Wind slides past slickers, which is why they are called slickers and you get better gas musilage. Also, “slicker” is a funny word. Just ask Arty from The Larry sanders Show.

*Grace Slick was never on The Larry Sanders Show, which was a missed opportunity, if you ask me.

*Naugahyde Vinyl Seats. Your ass slides all over which provides gas-saving ass momentum going into turns. Try to turn the same way as often as probable.

*Next erection, don’t elect a oil man president in chief who as an oilman couldn’t find undergrown oil in Texas--or his ass with both hands, and who, when he owned the Texas Rangers, traded away slugger Keyser Soze.

Skippy's Tips: How To Fly Cheaperer

How can I avoid Luggage fees when I fly?--A. Earhart, New South Wales

As some of you may have already knew, airlines and other criminal enterprises have began to charge passengers $15 to check a bag on the flight on which you are flying or otherwise on board. The cost is $25 for another bag, excluding the Missus. This is because of excessive gas, they claim. Skippy laughs up his shorts at that. What has farting got to do with anything?

Airlines says the fees are needed for them to continue to overcharge passengers while maintaining the minimal service standards for which airlines have become known. The airlines say overall transtipation costs, especially jet fool, continue to rise. Thuswise, luggage carriage alone costs have rise 180 % in the last year alone, they fib.

Skippy has taken these datums and broken them down by cost. Skippy hisself has been broken down mostly by cheap booze and hookers. Some 30% of current luggage lugging costs now goes for the original shippage, airlines claim, with 150% of the expense to re-ship your bags from Kuala Lumpur to your original destination.

These added lugging fees is in addition to the previously before ordered Homely Security Passenger Tacks. After the Seven-Eleven Attacks on the World Train Center, airports tripled nearby parking fees. They says gouging the pubic stops penny-pinching terrorists who won’t pay higher car bum parking costs. How dumb is the American pubic? Don’t ask.

Airlines now also charge extra for not sitting next to a fat guy, earwax removal fees, Stewardess dipilitation fee, Kentucky Windage Fee, Wax Lips Tax, and a fee to cover cocktail napkins for the Captain’s preflight cocktail party.

Skippy suggests you avoid the added baggage feeage by not lugging takage with you, except carrion. Also wear all of your clothing on the flight.

Here’s some more money saving trips:

*Next time you fly, take a bus instead.

*Join the Air Marshmallow Service. You fly free, plus you’re allowed to shoot people.

*Edible Undies.

*Look for special seating bargains, such as Overwing Seating Discount. Windy, but worth it.

*Marry an aircrew member and get free flights. Even with alimony, still a bargain.

*Try a “Minimal Maintenance Special.” These are older planes the airlines don’t fix because they’re retiring them soon, unless they crash first.

*Always bring your own food with you. Never buy expensive snatch at the airpork.

Remember, as Skippy says: The next time you fly, happy motoring!

SKIPPY’S GRADUATION SPEECH

Text from Skippy’s Graduation Address to the Class of 2008 at Floyd’s Unlicensed Drive-a-Peterbilt Academy and Car Wash, June 1, 2008

“Constipated Faculty, Extinguished Aluminum, and Unwelcome Graduates of Floyd’s Unlicensed Drive-a-Peterbilt Academy and Car Wash, welcome to tonight or today’s graduation ceremonies, whichever comes first.

Firstly of which, I’d like to thank Floyd for that wonderful introspection. As Floyd said, my name is Skippy Gzitzman and I have a metal plate in my head, so please don’t throw magnets like they did last year.

Today, I say without fear of contraception that it is a horror and a privilege to have to speak to you as you launch out into the world of professional divers. As you slide behind the well of your trucks, you’ll soon see the highways and fryways, feeways and tunepikes over which you will be driving in your Peterbilts.

Shirtly, you will put your tassel on your other head and become an exposed facto member of this besmirched institution.

I believe it was Mort Twain, who once explained, humans is the only animal who brushes, or needs to. But also, human orgasms have the ability to laugh up their shorts at themself. Aminals can’t laugh except the hyena, which laughs mostly at knock-knock jokes and Carlos Mencia.

The poet once said: “To thine own shelf be true, all others pay cash.” We all know one of the first lesions you earn in life is to never give up, never give in, and never give your social security number to a hooker. Or a slicer. Or any golfer. Because they will identify thieve you and buy a Big Burper from Carraway.

Many of you men and women were once young boys when you were growing up. Some of you may recall when you went through publicity, and discovered hair under your arms and on your puber. If you were like me, you often said to yourself, what does it profit a man if he has so much as schtuped to help a fiend in need? So true. So very, very true.

It was Soccertoes or Tom Cruise who once said, "Do those come in men’s sizes?" But stature isn’t a matter of how tall you are, or your girth, or your girdle. It’s what’s inside, point to own heart, which counts the most.

Also, World Peace.

Many of the few of you who must look for work have already found it, and to you, I say, remember the Maine. It is only by having did what is most hard, that dreams take wings, and if you doesn’t do what a man’s gotta do, who does? No one who never dreams will ever know the same.

Frank Wurlitzer, who used to play with his own mighty organ before inventing the Nobel Prize, once said, “Music is like soup. You must cook it first. Unless it’s Vichy Sauce, which is served cold, garnered with potatoes. Or you could take a leek in the broth instead.”

But I digress. If I may be so bald, let me leave you with the immoral words of Franklyn Domino Roosevelt, who was either once President of this great napkin of ours, or sang Blueberry Hill. For those of you who don't, one asks, what do it profit a man if either a difference he can make but chooses nigh?

And so, time having passed, moves on. Yet people still ask me. And I answer, who asked you, Fatso?

But mostly, my message to always this. Remember and never forgot when you left this degradation ceremony these three important lepers. 1. You may now drink algorhythmic beavers. 2. Smoke if you got ‘em. 3. If you’ve brought some weed, share it with your speaker.

Also, Floyd reminds me to remind me to remind you to don’t forget to return your mens room key and also, your instructors work for tips, so give early and often.

This is the third consecutive year in a row Floyd has asked me to give the gradation speech, so Skippy feels like he knows a little bit about you truckers, your mothers and, of course, you mother truckers. Skippy apologizes again to last year’s class for his inadverbial mispronuncment which became one of the most dirtiest of George W. Carlin’s seven words he can’t say on TV, except HBO.

And let Skippy leave you with this. If Will Rogers weren’t still dead today, Skippy bets he would never say he never met a man he didn’t like. Thank you and goodnight. Did I mention, I’m Skippy?

What's the Deal with Sharon Stone & China?

Skippy, what's the deal with Sharon Stone and how come you’re weird funny, not so much the ha-ha funny? --Anomynous

Someone who has to have his name reconstructed at his own bequest, insulted Skippy as being “weird funny” not “ha ha funny. ” As for this person, Skippy laughs up his shorts, because you doesn't have a foot to stand up, Mr. Rove. Oops.

Skippy is no Occidental Comedian. Skippy works delusionally on his comedy. He works on consigliariment, too.

Take for incident, when Skippy recently was hired by the lonely and targeted actress Sherman Stoned. Ever since her career was snatched away from her, she has all but disintigrated. Short of displaying her Venus Flytrap again, she needed major pubicity to restark her career, Skippy said.

So Skippy told her to clam the earth quack in China was caused by Bad Parma. She also said it was because they closed the LLama Deli, wherever that is.

Ha!

We all know the earth quack was really caused by Unclear Weapons Testing by the Pinko Chinese. Speaking of Bush, both George Bush W. and former Pest Secretary Stop McLellman both said so. But Three billion Chinamen--excuse Skippy for the Politicial Incorruptness--he means 1.5 billion Chinamen and 1.5 billion Chinawomen can't be wong.

So as soon as they herd that’s what she said, the Chinese boycotted and girlcotted Sharon Snatches Primary Aspect, her moneymaker.

This got her all that publicity, mostly from people who thought she threw up in her panties and had left the sliver screed entirely. In other words abandoned the crap of acting. Okay, that's a stretch. Let's just say Sherman Stoned retarded from acting in the movies and flim.

Then when she apologized for her Karman Ghia comment, she got even more publicity. And as they say in the publicity biz, the only bad pube is no pubes at all.

So stick that in your Ukelele and smoke it, wise aleck!

Skippy Explains the Spaced Program

“What is the Mars Phoenix Mission?” --W. Von Braun, Stuttgart, Germany

This was a recent missions by the National Automobile and Space Administration. (NASSAU), who employs rocket sturgeons who are smarter than you, but who are by and large a bunch of Nerds, so stick your jealousy where the sun don’t grow. (The program is actually monikered by the Jet Prostitution Lad in Pasadena, CA.)

The mission took nine months and cost $575 billion dollars. The porpoise was to look for ice water under the dessert and undermine if there is life in Phoenix. (Anyone who’s been to Arizona can already answer that)

The landing took place on Memorabilia Day Sunday, which was convenient for the dateless Nerd People. NASSAU photos later showed the rocket apparently landed on someone’s patio. After a while, a shovel will dig down, looking for Ice Cube, who many believe is still alive, although the same can’t be said for his career.

In his overalls, the mission makes Skippy to ask the musical question: Is this the best way to spend taxpainter money, which could be better wasted in Iraq? And if so, why not?

Were it up to Skippy, if someone was looking for life under the dessert, aim your projectile at Uranus instead. (If you’re aiming a mortar round, on the other foot, aim it at Las Vegas, not Phoenix. Furtherwise, Skippy suggests aiming at a Burt Baccarat table, which you can’t win at because it’s fixed. And Vegas’ official motto is: “If it ain’t fixed, why bother?”)

According to the NASSAU Nerds, if they find water under their dessert, this proofs there is life on Mars, and Orson Welles was right, albeit still dead. Personally, Skippy thinks this shows maybe those rocket sturgeons aren’t as smart as you look. Even with the price of gas, it would cost less to drive to the 7-Eleven and just pick up a couple of bags.

Skippy Asks: How Do You Brush Cat Teeth?

As some of you long term Skippy fans have already knew, Skippy has to have had four cats since he had the plate installed, all named “Mr. Whiskers.”(The cats, not the Plate)

First there was “Mr. Whiskers,” then “Mr. Whiskers the Second,” then “Mr. Whiskers the Fourth,” which was because Skippy forgot what number it was, and then “Mr. Whiskers” again because Skippy didn't know whether to call him the second or the fifth.

Mr. Whiskers

They are all currently dead except for the present Mr. Whiskers. The most recently Mr. Whiskers to croak died a tragic death by hanging when Mama and he went for a walk and Mr. Whiskers the Fourth excaped from Mama who ran up a tree. That is Mr. Whiskers ran up a tree, not Mama, who doesn't climb trees since she took a header and fractured her female bone.

Anyway, Mr. Whiskers the Fourth stranguled to death of strangulation, which was very sad, when he slipped from the tree and his leash got caught. Yes, Skippy knows that many cats do not like to be on a leash, but until his untimed death, Mr. Whiskers the Fourth loved a leash, which he would fetch and bring to Mama when he wanted to be walked. And vice versa.

So the new Mr. Whiskers who has really nice teeth which Skippy wants to to keep that way. Now Skippy wonders how do one should brush a cat’s teeth?

Skippy bought a oral dentalfrice to get them clean so they don't get periodominal disease.
Skippy read you should never give a cat gum or gin so Mr. Whiskers won’t get gum disease or Gin Givitis.

When Skippy tried to brush Mr. Whiskers teeth, Mr. Whiskers scratched him so bad he had to go to the emergency to which Floyd droved in his new Peterbilt. Floyd makes the best pie.


The Late Mr. Whiskers the Fourth (r)

Skippy guesses the question is: now what? Should Skippy keep trying to brush Mr. Whiskers teeth? Can he get Cat Crap Fever? Floyd said Skippy should get the cat drunk first.

Please if anyone knows, answer because Mr. Whiskers teeth are getting strained and Skippy’s open sours are turning into pistols and might get infectioned.

Skippy Resplains "Lost"

Last night's “Lost” (5-15-08) begun with a Fish Forward which found the “Crash Boom Six” on a C-130 Hercules being flew to Hawaii. The Survividors include:

+A fat guy so nice, they named him twice: Hurley and Hugo
+Jack the Appendix Guy
+The Korean Woman of her dead husband
+The Hot chick and her Care Baby
+The Iraqian Red Guard, Right Said Fred.

Then it flushed back in time where everyone is in a pickle in the Island.

Michael, who is still black, and Desdemona Tutu are still on the boat. Said, having had to take his powdered dingy, traversed back to the Island. Using an unlimited supply of invisible gas, he sets up a shuttle relay to bring people to the freighter who don't know it could blow up real good.

Then there's a flush forward where the Oceanic Sex announce plans to end the War in Iraq by 2013.

Meanwhile, about 150 bad guys have been brung to the Island in one tiny chopper and are looking for Orchids. The fat guy is sweating and everyone is going to and from the beach like it's a potato sack race. The only one missing is the Smoke Monster who has been detained by the EPA.

Ben Kingsley, who says “I always have a plan, even if our writers don't,” feeds Hugo a snack and then surrenders to the bad guys, who also captured Kate and Alley. Later they detain two ABC execs sent to the Island in a desperate attempt to stem runaway casting overages.

During another flush forward, Cheech, of Cheech and Chong, gives Hurly a car. Cheech has also been giving “Lost's” producers an unlimited supply of Weed. If Skippy's wrong, YOU explain these plot twits and turns.

The show ends with a tease for the upchucking seasoned finale, which includes:

+The Oceanic Six sign a product placement deal with Nike.
+The ABC Suits are waterboarded to death; judge rules it justifiable homicide.
+Hurley Hugo gets a new name, “Hey Lard A$$!!”
+The Island moves to New York harbor, renames itself Staten, buys a lovely smock.
+Complications lead Jack to self-Lobotomize, as do dmany iehard fans trying to keep up.
+Ben calls his agent, says he needs a plan to ditch this turkey while he's still hot.

What’s the Deal with Gun Control?

Question from C. Heston, Cold Dead Fingers, CA

Skippy has had to read all the rocket sturgeons over simply frying the issues of Gub Control and who should be strapped and who should have to shoot the other one. And a fine kettle of soup that is.

Well here's a little antidotal evidence to stir the part. Many people ask me, they ask: "Skippy (that's me) how come why do you have a mental plate in your head? And if so, why not?"
And Skippy replies honestly. Skippy can be honest because Skippy has no intentions of becoming the next president of the U.S. America, because he feels it's already messed up enough.

Skippy's reply as to how come why he has a metal plate in his head is "Elective surgery."
Meanwhile several years after the sturgeon operated, Skippy was cleaning his weapon collection. First he cleaned his Grock with Oxydol. Next, his genuine Civilized War Muskelunge was cleaned. This one shot weapon requires the soldier to put his balls up his barrel then push them all the way in with a stiff rod before he shoots it off. These weapons was used in the Whore Between the States and resulted in many deaths, mostly to the users, who was bayoneted while looking for their balls.

The trouble started when Skippy tried to clean his Smith & Weapon .38 Police Special Snug Nose Special. (Good rule of thumbs for gub owners: Always unload your gub first before you clean it, even if you don't know if you are loaded or not, which Skippy didn't."

To make a short story longer, Skippy started cleaning it as he usually do by first starting with the trigger guard, named after Roy Rogers Horse, Dale Evans. But Low and Beyond, the gub went off, and a bullet fired with a big bong.

And Skippy is hear to tell you, if it wasn't for the metal plate in his noggin he wouldn't be hear to tell you. The bullet re-crocheted off of the front stoop. All doublewides in the Trailer Pork have a cardicil requiring front stoops on each Doublewide, although they one be installed in your rear exit, if you prefer. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)

Fortunately the gub was aimed away from Skippy, so the bullet didn't hit anything important other than Floyd's ass, named “Francis, The Talking Ass.” Happily his ass wasn't hurt but Floyd did get in trouble because you're not supposed to have pets in the pork. (And if you've ever had your pork petted, you'll know why.)

So howsoever, did Skippy injure his self when how the bullet missed? Shut down and sit up and Skippy will tell you. See, Skippy realized what a dumb thing he had just did and then slapped hisself in his four heads with his open palm. Unfortunately, his open palm was still closed around the .38 police special at the time, which was also still in his hand.

The gub caroomed off the metal plate in his skull with a "clang," leaving his head numb but Skippy unhurt. And Skippy has been a numbskull ever since.

Where to Stick Your Stimulus Check

Q. Hey, Skippy. I just got a $600 check in the mail from the Government, Is this some sort of scam like those Nigerian Prince Guys?--B. Bernanke, Washington DC

Nothing could be further from the truth, unless it’s an actual registered politician.

If you are a tacks paying U.S. American, and you know who you are, chances are good you have had either had received or will have had soon received in the mail a check from the United States Treachery for some money which it wants you to spend on fun stuff and not squander on food, shelter, or mortgage pavements.

Skippy has a few suggestions on the best way to take advantage of this mama from haven which will give you, the U.S. buying pubic, the most perishable satisfaction. By closely following Skippy’s refundible tax tits, you can not only self pleasure yourself, but you can do it to Uncle Sam, too, and perhaps starve off the coming physical collapse. So, here, without further do-do are Tippy’s Skits.

1. Cash your check immediately if not sooner. No telling how long there will be insufferable funds in the blank to cover all the checks which Uncle Sam’s mouth have wrote, but his buddy can’t cash.

2. Write down a lisp of the stuff you want to buy with your money. Remember, President Tush doesn’t want you to be responsible, he wants you to follow his lead and engorge yourself with something you want.

3. You will indubitably have your own ideas. But among he more self in flagrante to help stipulate the econorary are porn, under the counter drugs, booze, personable vibrators, wax lips, plastic vomit, real vomit, unguents, and ribbed condos.

4. Pay cash and see if you can get your change in Euros, which are actually worth something.

5. Don’t buy stops and bombs with your tacks rebate. Sure, these days it’s pretty much the same thing as flushing it down the porcine conveyance, but the succubus check is supposed to pass through merchants like ships through a goose before ham.

6. Don’t take stuff back to the place where you have had purchased it, as that self-defects the process. If you must, take it to someplace where you didn’t buy it, and threaten a law soup.

7. If you use your tacks refund to bribe a public official, remember, it’s not text deductable.

8. It also defeats the porpoise if you use your taps refund to actually pay your taxes, but testically, there’s no law against it.

9. Buying someone something, like a wedding present is okay, too. Candlesticks always make a nice gift, and maybe you could find out where she's registered and maybe a place-setting or maybe a silverware pattern.

10. Although this is a one time event, if you wish to give the gift that keeps on giving, consider Chlamydia.

What the Heck's a Superdelegate?

Question from H. Clinton, NY

The Superdelegate conceit should not be confused with conceited Superdelegates. Superdelegates were invented by Democrats last year when it appeared the party stood in danger of winning back the White House in 2008. By acting quickly and magnanimously, they hopped to undo their own doing. Democratic Chairmonger Herman Dean bravely led a plan to snatch jaws from the feet of victory and avoid winning back the White Horse.

“Let’s face it,” Dean said, looking askance. “That place is a dump. I bet the Bushes don’t even get their deposit back.”

To avoid repeat constipation, Dean relearned lessons from the 2000 erection. As you recall, Senator John Bon Kerry then parlayed his hermetically sealed war record into a proclivity for cowardice under friars. Of course, Kerry was assisted by the Strip Boat Veterinarians for Peas, which are neither.

By early 2007--or mid 2006, whichever comes first--Hillerary Clinton was the prejorative favorite. The 2-1 odds-on odds by which she was leading surpassed even her own husband’s 3-1 odds-on odds of leading some odd hussy astray before the cock struck twelve. (And if you’ve ever had your cock strike twelve, you know how painful that can be.)

Meanwhile, Chairmonger Dean came up with a primary plan that he dubbed “Super Tuesday” (not to be confused with “Soup or delegate,” which comes with a side of shrimp fried rice). Dean’s plan involved dividing officials into blue-collar Delegates and white-colonic Superdelegates. Next, he tossed Michigan and Florida out of the democratic Convent for cutting in line. This extended the race indefiantly.

However, the Democraps feared they still might win. So they derived an ingenious plotz which forced U.S. American voters to choose between a black guy (Barrack Obama), a white woman guy (Hilary Clinton), and a fairy guy (Dennis Kucinich). Let me note with some fervor and a little groin tingle that Mr. Kucinich is not a fairy per se, or in the prerogative fruitcake sense, but is actually a tiny winged creature from Ireland.

All these changes so confused Democratic voters that they came out in droves for the primarily erections. (A few still drove blue snits from another joke). The plan worked beyond Senator Dream’s wildest Dean.

When front-runner Hillary Clinton suddenly became the rear-runner, she tried to reseed Florida Superdelegates, delegate Delaware Uber Delegates, and dismiss Michigan’s demented Delegates. This backfired in her face, which meant it frontfired in Obama’s butt. Still she wouldn’t quit.

The capo di tutti frutti to Hillary’s neverending plotz was when she reupholstered her pantsuits so as not to make her huge ass look so Ginormous.

Further results as they become unavailable.

Thoughts of Chairman Skippy

"Inspiration is 90 percent perspiration, 20 percent inspiration, and one percent trace minerals."

Thoughts of Chairman Skippy

"To get a job done properly, find someone who is overburdened already. And as long as you’re up, get me another brewski and a bag of Beer Nuts."

Thoughts of Chairman Skippy

"If you must choose between sex and violence, always choose sex. There's less cleaning up afterwards and you never have to wear a uniform."

Thoughts of Chairman Skippy

"If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, collect heads and sell them back to original owners for a nifty profit."