The Sports Rant

For those of you who aren't interested in sports, I still think you're shallow art phonies who got beat up by the likes of me and my jock buddies in high school.

For those of you who are interested in sports, exhibit A from Papa Murk:

It is Tuesday. Super Bowl Media Day. I don't really care. What can 3,500 media types tell me that I don't already know. I already know that Tom Brady nearly lost his leg against the Chargers. He had to go to New York and have his booboo kissed better and is ready to give it a try on next Sunday. I already know that Peyton Manning will be in Super Bowl commercials but not the Super Bowl game. Some high school sophomore named Eli is going to be the starting quarterback for the NFC Champions N. Y. Giants and has the mighty Patriots trembling at his new found proficiencies. I even know the final score 23-17. Thanks Plaxico for that info. Why are they putting me through this torture? What more do I need to know?
I am kind of hoping that someone will give me a reason to believe the Giants belong in this Game. I tried comparing personnel. I really do not want any of the Giants players over any of the Patriots players. Maybe Brandon Jacobs as a short yardage guy. Maybe Strahan as an off the edge rusher on third and twenty situation. That is pretty much it. I don't want to trade front office staff or coaching staffs. The won/loss records are a joke. Super Bowl experience no comparison there either. So I am asking you help out your dear old Dad. Find a reason. Any reason to believe the Game will be drama filled.
Help Dad

Okay...

Relax for a minute. Slow your breathing. Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to here.

We're talking about a game. A game. Not practice. A game. We're talking about a game. A game? A game?

Here is what I've dubbed 'The Reverse Iverson'. I'm so freaking nervous to even trot this one out. It goes against all of my superstitious beliefs. The game itself is unimportant. It's not about winning and losing. Winning is not what counts here. Practice is what counts. Practice is what will make the game worthwhile. The only thing we should be talkin' 'bout right here is practice. Not a game. Practice.

The drama is not found in the win. It's like watching a fine actor in Hamlet or Lethal Weapon or The Great Race. Knowing the outcome will not destroy the thrill of seeing a great performer (actually, about 30 of them) at the peak of his career create something brilliant and moving out of what some would consider to be very cliche. Study the way he breaks the huddle and walks his team to the line. Witness the look on the directors face as he says his lines.

"Red. 88. Red. 88. Hut hut. Hut."

Everyone knows what is coming. His cocky wide receiver runs the route to perfection. The blocking is there. A nice play fake. He drops back and launches.

Intercepted!

The tragic downfall was predictable. Even when it looked like victory was in reach, and he was poised to write the greatest storybook ending in history, his own character flaws destroy him in full view of the assembled cast... dear God, bless his heart. He must be the sickest man in America right now.

And then, as he walks off the field, he realizes the true horror. He's doomed to play this role for four full quarters. He's good at it. Maybe the best there will ever be. Only time will tell.

Bravo! Eli! Eli! Bravo! Eli!

Folks, we might be witnessing the best performance by a choke artist in NFL history.

Eli Manning will get his wish. He will surpass his brother. Unfortunately, he forgot to specify in what respect he wished to surpass him. You see, Peyton was the best failure in the NFL. Maybe better than Marino. But he slipped up and won a game last year. A championship game. THE championship game. Peyton chocked as a choke artist. Now, it's up to Eli to take the reigns.

And, he has plenty of preactice.

Not to mention it will completely rock to see Giants Fans cry off their face paint before half time.

Another Sunday

So, my Sunday Drive ended badly:



The cause? Al Gore.

You know, even though he kept mispronouncing words and had no clue what he was talking about, I believed him. As my car spun out of control on the ice patch, I shouted "Save me global warming!!!"

It didn't work.

Luckily, I took out some pesky utility poles. I interupted enough electricity to power a small RC Race Car for an hour! Plus, think of all the cable TVs and internet modems I shut down! Score one for team green and Doctor Murk!

Unfortunately, I was next to a public housing unit. With all the streetlights out, I guess no food stamps got delivered. It's a shame. It's such a wonder to see a perfectly functioning government program go down the tubes because of Al Gore.

What is the 'Al' short for? Alzhiemers? What a dink.

So, is anyone else excited for this Democratic Primary? I am. WOW! Our caring, sensitive Liberal Leaders (HAIL!) sure have us confused. Name calling? Tsk tsk. Another year of a divided liberal party. Sigh... They can't even agree on this economic stimulus plan! I thought Pelosi was the queen? Now, I guess she's the queen of EVIL! What a great choice for majority leader. She's got more cave in her than a Tennessee mining town!

I sure the JV Squad gets it together or... another 4 years of their liberal whining.

You see, I am a conservative. BUT, I'd like to see a Democrat take their turn with a full Democratic Congress and still fail worse than Bush. I'm going to get rich off of my first satirical but wildly inaccurate book about our new Democratic President.

Actually, I want Hillary to win. I know she's past the time of feminine monthly problems, but hey! I'm just a dumb, uneducated conservative who thinks all women are second class citizens, right? So, let the period jokes begin!

If Obammmmmma wins, I will not make any racist comments. I'll just childishly make fun of his name, his religious beliefs and any public faux pas he makes. BUT, I'll be branded as a racist. Even though people have been doing the exact same thing to Bush for 8 years.

On second though, if either one of them becomes President, they'd be making history. First woman, or first man of ANY minority (except the damn Irish) to become president. Although Hillary technically would be Presidette.

One question. When the President is a woman, or a minority, who will you have left to blame for your lack of success in life? There will be no more 'Man' keeping you down, girly. No more prejudiced white opressor sitting in his big white house picking on you. What then?

I, for one, will use this opportunity to push my social and political agenda by blaming the White House for everything. I will blame them for any death or natural disaster, heedless of the people who have passed on. I will wallow in every mistake they make. I will live in America, but complain about my lack of freedom constantly. I'll spit on soldiers and burn flags and...

Wait. I'm feeling weird. I think all this liberal thinking has brainwashed me...

I'll watch CNN and see what I should believe...

It's All Over For You People

Malach, Piper and I have finally perfected the world's most evil form of torture.

We call it "Bahrain Wake Up Call".







Briefly allow me to describe...

That's not WHAT happens to you. That WHO happens to you. That's right. It's Mental Mark Meadows, know for his sweaty fingers and broomhandle.

Now, if anyone decides to mess with us, you have been warned.

Tom Brady Still Has Snakes

"Oh Sweet Stinking Monkeys, I have SNAKES!"

That's righty. Two years and counting. Tom Brady still has snakes. Where did he get them? How does he deal with it? Will there ever be a cure for poor Tom?

Many people get snakes at some point in their life, but Tom Brady has SNAKES real bad, dude. Look at him. It makes me ill. I want to hug all his snakes goodbye and kiss his sweet sweet forehead. There there, Tom. All snakes gone. All snakes gone. Sleep now, gentle warrior. Daddy's got you.

NO! YOU HAVE SNAKES TOM!!!! YOU'RE GOING TO GET ALL BIT UP INSIDE OUT! I can't hold a man with snakes! Get out of my head, Tiki Barber. Ahhh.

AHHHH!!!!

Tom?

I'm so cold...

The Ignorant Have Fingers

After wading my way through the "Jonestown Scandal" over at You Tube, I became a bit despondent. Then I realized something very important. Idiots have fingers. Cats don't have fingers. Neither do turtles. But idiots do.

That means that any idiot can use a computer. This wasn't true ten years ago. In 1998, getting on the internet was complex. Posting your criminally dumb ideas was almost impossible. Jump back further to the 1950s. Ignorant biggots had to use bullhorns to get on TV. They had to burn crosses or shit on an American Flag.

Now, just point and click your way to idiot central, i.e. the internet.

Remember that guy who used to come by your parties and tell everyone he had the funniest video, and then you watched it and it was some friend of his shooting water out of his ass or some giant dump on a car hood? That guy can now put his video online. Not only that, but some other idiot who fails to see the humor can make horrifyingly inane comments about said video.

Now "Jonestown" is an awesome video by two very funny guys and posted by Malach. The premise is simple. A man in a hat looks out into the pastoral hills and finds himself bored. Outraged, he decides to show the audience a place where it's not so boring. JONESTOWN!

There, he is joined by his friend in another type of hat and they tell the audience all the wonderful qualities of Jonestown. Simply breath taking work. Applause.

Well, some fuckos don't agree. Fine. Make a comment that you think the video is in poor taste and leave, right? NOOOOOO. They have to hang around and harrass Malach and even pretend to contact his local police force (who Malach owns by way of copious amounts of lager dropped down their gullets). Ignore them, right? Shut the fuck up. I'm Dr. Murk, not Sally Sweetheart Lovesemall. So, I've designed a new threat, one so disturbing, pigs squeal even though they don't read my blog when the read my blog.

I will not mention any names.

I am going to find these people and bake them a giant cake filled with dynamite and cyanide. Then, I'm going to go to their house and put the cake on their table and get a knife. With that knife, I will open a very securely taped box filled with scorpions and wolves. Upon openeing the box, I will serve the cake to them at knifepoint, shoot their feet off, dump them and all the wolves and scorpions into a shark tank as I hit the detonator for the dynamite while simultaneously calling down lightning bolt after lightning bolt Tesla style and faking a nuclear launch to trigger a counterstrike on their house, leaving me just enough time to douse their half eaten, poisoned, explided, stung and bitten bodies with hydrogen rocket fuel so I can light a match and run away while barbarian hordes invade their colons with sharp, broken glass dildos right before the nuclear holocaust to follow.

The greatest part will be ringing the doorbell with my funny little straw hat and yelling "JONESTOWN!!!" when they open the door.

Murk.

Things I Love

Snow.

Yes, I know it gets messy and it makes things cold and wet, but so does a blow job, right? That doesn't mean it's not a beautiful thing. There are many things to love about snow. I love slipping and falling down in it. I love how it makes large car accidents. I love when it colapses a school rooftop. It can even trap starving infant children in a mine shaft. Am I right folks?

Every once in a while, if a snowfall is just special enough, they tell you not to bother to come in to work. Being a self employed psychometrist and (adult) film maker, if I see a flake... just one fucking flake, I cancel work and give all my employees the day off. Why? The Snow Day.

Those of you from gay warmer latitudes will not know this, but in the colder, more awesome areas of the world, we get days off when it snows. This is especially true of schools. There's nothing better than being a kid, waking up at six thirty a.m. and finding out you get to sit around, eat cereal, make snow forts and peg cars with snowballs all day instead of having school.

It is with this nostalgia that I approach the snowfall in the Northeaster United States today. Look, as an adult, I guess there's less magic to snow, but it's kinda like the softcore porn on Cinemax that got you through high school. Sure, it doesn't do much for you today, but think of all the memories you had! What fun! Weeeee! And the snow days were pretty cool too.

So, I personally call every employee in my six companies between the hours of 3 and 4 in the morning to tell them to shut off their alarm, put on their Whitesnake bathrobe and Garfield slippers and eat Coco Puffs drenched in hot chocolate. And you should see what I do when it snows. I give them the day off too!

Bad Diseases

The Crumps

Loft Tango Burs

Spoon Foot

Herdie Pump

Imolating Shits

Harbor Knuckle

Specklepecker

Hobo Wandering Disease

Jack and Jill Fever

Hoodups

Pen Pen Droop

Hog and Sandwich Leg Syndrome

Perpetua In Excessivis

Monkey Pox

Butt Ping Red Ring Worm

Hole Indiego

Mops

Swamp Robot Dizzies

Lost Saturday Finger

Cough Cough Splatter Platter

Poverty Peeps

Rock Salt Ennui

Gorp

Good Ole Clap Cock

Giant Neck Tick Paralysis

Bunnybetes

Romeo Castrasis

Italian Soo

Hebertickles

Chinese Squat Syndrome

Heavy Backend Breath

Luxorpimp Doctor Induction (aka Blackeyes)

So, what's your disease?

Remember the Time...

The 5 most significant moments of my life, in order, with 1 being the MOST significant.

5. Nearly dying. While this happened on more than one occasion, I remember one in particular. I almost fell off a garage roof. I was just a young lad. Slapped the daredevil out of me. Now, I hired people to do dumb things.

4. Becoming important. Again, I have always been and continue to become important, but I'm specifically referring to when I became THE Dr. Robert J. Murk, the most important man on Planet Disco.

3. My first trip into the great beyond. That day of the blue button. I'd elaborate, but the ground would melt.

2. Meeting Mrs. Dr. Murk. Not as sentimental as it sounds. It heralded years of violent assassinations and take out food.

1. The day I totally beat up the Angry Piper.

So, what's your top 5?

Crap, probably.