Thirty-Four Years
Fuck all this "five years" bullshit that's going on today. The real day of infamy was thirty four years ago when Lil' Wombat was lifted from the belly of his sainted mother and hurled into the world like an obscenity-spewing cannonball. My own personal conspiracy theory is that the terrorists picked my birthday to throw planes at buildings as some sort of warning to me. Because if there's one thing the terrorists hate more than freedom, It's poop stories and fart jokes. Nothing spoils a jihad like bun-music.
I waited all day for Katie Couric to show up and interview me, or for the President to publicly condemn me, but both of them were complete no-shows. I also scoured the newspaper for "where were you when Wombat was born" stories, but I found nothing. The blogosphere was similarly devoid of stories about me. Everyone's busy going on and on about the other horrible thing that happened on 9/11. Let's get some perspective here, people!
Yes, the terrorist attacks 5 years ago were horrible. Truly, utterly horrible. But I'd like to think that this blog is even more horrible. And if you think reading me makes you want to throw yourself from a bridge, just imagine talking to me. And I've been spreading my unique brand of stink around the country for way longer than 5 years. So I ask you: Who, really, is the greater threat to our way of life? Osama Bin laden, or yours truly, the Sphincter of Mass Distruction?
How long have I been trying to get the government to institute a color-coded warning system (shades of brown, of course) based on the flatulence levels in my pants? I mean, I'm thinking of the public safety here. But no one in the White House would return my calls. Now every Tom Dick and Achmed with a dirty bomb or a thermos full of anthrax gets a color-coded warning. What a world. I was unleashing toxic gas on the masses way before it was cool.
What is astonishing to me as I look back over my life this far, is how similar I am now to the Lil' Wombat that entered the world all those years ago. He was a whining crying shit-machine with no hair, a tiny penis, and a strong desire to put nipples in his mouth. Today? Well... I cry a little less. Otherwise, pretty much the same dude. Amazing how I can take so long to make such little progress.
At any rate, enjoy your day of rememberance. Have a moment of silence for those 2973 poor souls who died 5 years ago. But when you're done doing that, take a moment to recall the original "dirty bomb," introduced to a cringing America on this day in 1972.
I waited all day for Katie Couric to show up and interview me, or for the President to publicly condemn me, but both of them were complete no-shows. I also scoured the newspaper for "where were you when Wombat was born" stories, but I found nothing. The blogosphere was similarly devoid of stories about me. Everyone's busy going on and on about the other horrible thing that happened on 9/11. Let's get some perspective here, people!
Yes, the terrorist attacks 5 years ago were horrible. Truly, utterly horrible. But I'd like to think that this blog is even more horrible. And if you think reading me makes you want to throw yourself from a bridge, just imagine talking to me. And I've been spreading my unique brand of stink around the country for way longer than 5 years. So I ask you: Who, really, is the greater threat to our way of life? Osama Bin laden, or yours truly, the Sphincter of Mass Distruction?
How long have I been trying to get the government to institute a color-coded warning system (shades of brown, of course) based on the flatulence levels in my pants? I mean, I'm thinking of the public safety here. But no one in the White House would return my calls. Now every Tom Dick and Achmed with a dirty bomb or a thermos full of anthrax gets a color-coded warning. What a world. I was unleashing toxic gas on the masses way before it was cool.
What is astonishing to me as I look back over my life this far, is how similar I am now to the Lil' Wombat that entered the world all those years ago. He was a whining crying shit-machine with no hair, a tiny penis, and a strong desire to put nipples in his mouth. Today? Well... I cry a little less. Otherwise, pretty much the same dude. Amazing how I can take so long to make such little progress.
At any rate, enjoy your day of rememberance. Have a moment of silence for those 2973 poor souls who died 5 years ago. But when you're done doing that, take a moment to recall the original "dirty bomb," introduced to a cringing America on this day in 1972.
posted by CommonWombat at 5:50 PM
10 Comments:
happy breachday, most common of wombats! may your threat levels always be shades of brown.
happy birthday pooper.
i can smell your party from here.
Funny you should mention anthrax a mere few hours before you get home to open that FedEx package I sent you.
At any rate, happy birthday. May your shit always stink.
Happy Bday
You should throw a blatantly-inappropriate party with a cake shaped like the twin towers. But don't include any airplanes. That wouldn't be classy.
Maybe they'll bronze your crapper for your 35th B-Day.
May you have a wonderful year, Wombat. And may this time twelve months from now we both be on motorbikes scaring the shit out of everyone we encounter on the road.
No, please, don't go motorbike riding side by side down the highway with Malnurtured Snay. I demand that the two of you both ride on the SAME bike, like a young couple in love. I have to see that. I beg you.
Happy Belated B day, Wombat.
PS..I can smell your farts from my house!
I had no idea our birthdays were so close together. It makes me feel dirty.
Hepy birfdy!
ACW-You feel dirty?? He was born a mere four days after me. I always wondered why my birth certificate had a faint fecal aroma to it.
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