(The part of daily mass Father Palmieri dreaded most was the queue to kiss the Holy Cock Ring. It creeped him out how Benedict always took of his goofy hat and got all confortable. )

Last week, Scumbag Style instituted “Jugularity,” a columnal outlet for when the world seems to be coming up boobies. In the interest of balance, and in celebration that the names of naughty bits fit really well into spooneristic word replacement puns, here’s some dick jokes that prove real life has the sense of humor of a 12 year old, and so do we.

A patient claims the producers of CBS TV show “The Doctors” tricked him into appearing before a live studio audience to undergo laser surgery for “pearly penile papules,” then broadcast his penis operation without his consent. (Courthouse News)

Oh, Jesus Danza Slapping* Christ, save us from that entirely gratuitous, unholy alliteration. This guy wants to sue CBS for airing his lumpy lester on the TV, and I want to sue him for making his god-given anal bead condition a five second music video that will play over in my head all day. I’d call Will Smith down with his flashy cancer stick from MIB if I didn’t enjoy breakfast so hard. We’re going to pretend that story didn’t happen and move on to a couple of dudes who would eschew the lazer prescription for something resembling the treatment for a snake bite.

Like Senator Roy Ashburn from SoCal, who was nailed driving his Tahoe about 12 hours ago with a blood alcohol level of .14%. Growing up in Boston, the Irish cops used to call that level of intoxication “not fucking around.” We all make mistakes, though, right? The difference between a drunk driver and a passable one often comes down to how big your lunch was, and the margin for error there is pretty high. Don the orange vest for a hundred hours, and we’ll forget about this one – -

[Ashburn] was arrested for allegedly driving drunk after leaving Faces, a gay nightclub in midtown Sacramento… A male passenger, who was not identified as a lawmaker, was also in the car…  Ashburn, a father of four, is a Republican Senator… with a history of opposing gay rights. (CBS, who just cannot seem to stay away from the cock)

Sometimes it seems people are born to gauge how far milk can shoot out of my nose. My  disappointment that a gay club pilfered the name of my favorite Rod Stewart vehicle notwithstanding (you bastards make him the next Liza, and I swear…), this poor bastard could make a documentary series on TLC about the next couple of years of his being his own punchline. This thing is going to play out in long, grueling stages, like AA where nobody believes in you. Divorce, disbarment, Roy’s Runty Rod: All The Dirty Details, promo spots for Preparation H, the whole nine.

Ashburn has particularly yummy timing when you consider that, at the time of his arrest, the news outlets of America were preparing a piece about a dude in Rome who will have it way easier:

The Vatican was today rocked by a sex scandal reaching into Pope Benedict’s household after a chorister was sacked for allegedly procuring male prostitutes for a papal gentleman-in-waiting… Angelo Balducci, a Gentleman of His Holiness, was caught by police on a wiretap allegedly negotiating with Thomas Chinedu Ehiem, a 29-year-old Vatican chorister, over the specific physical details of men he wanted brought to him… “I saw your call when I was in the Vatican, because I was doing rehearsals … in the choir … in St Peter’s.” He then suggests Balducci meet a man who he describes is “two metres tall … 97 kilos … aged 33, completely active.”

If ever there was secret code for “not above a blumpkin,” that’s it. For those of you who didn’t grow up Catholic (bullet on steroids dodged), words like “Vatican Chorister” and “Gentlemen of His Holiness” and “metres” aren’t just bandied about in Rome like so much altar boy. A Gentleman of His Holiness is like a made man in the Mafia; he’s earned the right to be an usher at masses performed by the Pope, goes to all the fancy dinners, can put a hit out, and is technically part of the surrogate Papal family that could never be with the Holy Nutsack in mothballs…. or, apparently, other dude’s mouths. In their strange, metric system babble, you might call him a Royale with Splooge. Similarly, there are but 2 choirs at St. Peter’s, this Ehiem being in the Pope’s preferred, and just like a job in a tollbooth, you have to know somebody. To do a job you’d get a wedgie for in grade school. Just sayin’.

The thing is, these guys are off the hook, because the Vatican unwittingly provided the perfect out in their own despicable policies. As early as the 1970s, so far as can be proved now, they started shuffling among dioceses  those priests accused of diddling little boys. Alls they have to do is trade the priests that have moved on to the cougars of the male gender (give ‘em some kudos for waiting for their balls to drop, by the way) to those parishes tired of kiddie-pucker sacrifice, and the pedophiles to Rome, which most reasonable parents view as a sanctified Neverland Ranch. We’ll lob softballs at them like we always do until the scandal is over, and crucify GOP Senator Ashburn because we still need a whipping boy, but have the rod of PC so far up our asses we don’t want to criticize religious people for their own hypocrisy.  It’s such a primal instinct, to make a sacrifice of one for the sins of the community, like Joey Fatone doing Rent so the rest of Nsync could have real careers.

What is curious is why these guys shove themselves so deep in the closet they’re trading makeup tips with Mr. Tumnus, going out of their way to make oppressive laws and religious edicts concerning the very thing they enjoy doing. Chalk it up to masochism if you want, but it seems to me they could just move to P-town and free their manwhore budgets up for antiquing, and be much happier for it. Is there really such a leap in imagination from “Glory of God” to “Glory Hole of Rainbow Road Bookstore”? If you have to look at it from the Christian perspective, what if you get to Heaven and God asks you how you liked that free will he gave you, and you’ve treated it like Aunt Mildred’s itchy reindeer sweater? Ashburn already womaned up and apologized between mouthfuls of man gravy, but it isn’t too late for the rest of you Narnians to give a press conference saying, “Dick is great. Preferably several at a time. Have you tried this shit? Cuz it’s the cat’s pajamas. If your queer little club doesn’t want me in it, then peace the hell out, and I’m taking my Judy Garland records with me.”

Scumbag Concordance: “The Danza Slap,” noun -  A dick slap used as a finishing move during ejaculation, during which the slapper demands of the slappee “Who’s The Boss.” The term is mistakenly attributed to Tony “Nadz” Danza himself, who was rumored to have starred in pornography himself before Taxi. This rumor was refuted later when people got off the coke and realized the anachronistic replacement of a “z” for an “s,” and that the cast-member with adult entertainment on his resume was actually Judd Hirsch, who patented the now famous “Hershey Hirsch.” (Urban Dictionary’s myriad definitions)

(“You should stick around for the double feature. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I’ll give you a hint: what’s smaller than a breadbox, and covered in cum? I’m sorry, I’m not good at this.)

My man Martin Ssempa over there in Uganda has the right idea. He’s a pastor in a country that makes homosexual acts illegal, with sentences as severe as death, and he makes damned sure his parishioners don’t slip up, and live to the ripe old age of 30.

“The major argument homosexuals have is that what people do in the privacy of their bedrooms is nobody’s business but do you know what they do in their bedrooms?,” the pastor asked. Ssempa then displayed a slide show of [hardcore] gay pornographic pictures… “This one is eating another man’s anus (eds: correct),” the pastor said, before going into graphic scatological descriptions.

Atta boy! Pillow biting movie time for Jesus! This guy is a goddamned genius, showing his 300 strong congregation (that’s including children, for those of you keeping score on your home edition of Super-Perv) hardcore porn to keep them from fagging out. Gather round, kids! Take it from an American, here’s nothing less fun than watching porn. When everybody sees how unpleasant porn makes sex appear to be, they may never want to so much as shower without a burlap body condom on again. Children will wear ties in the pools, and men will dam their anuses with Wrigley’s and duct tape rather than do the horrific things in those – - hey, was that an orgasm?

Wait, what are you going to do about the people, who have never been exposed to homosexuality outside of constant demonization, and think to themselves, “Hey, that looks like a pretty swell time!”? Or lean over and say to their wives, “Say that looks just like when I give you a Mexican Facial, and that’s always an enjoyable experience. Perhaps I should consider broadening my horizons.” Wouldn’t you just be giving your followers an illustrated

I am very wealthy, as you can see by the many chickens I have brought for choking.

how-to class on opening their own 24-hour fudge packing sweat shop? I mean, sure, you could probably set an armed guard to waste anyone leaving with an obvious boner, and you might even be able to tell who’s coming back for seconds with their tuggin’ pants on and put them in the special poisoned wine line. Some will undoubtedly get through the net; they look just like real people, what can you do? You’ll get a whole bunch though, so nobody can say you didn’t do your part in the murderin’. The only problem I see with your adult book store arcade/church is the expense of mending all the glory holes these guys will drill into your pews. I swear, they must walk around with those comically large, drywall sodomizing corkscrews you see in ’60s spy movies in their fanny packs at all times.

[The new law, of which Father Knucklehead is a major proponent] would criminalise public discussion of homosexuality and could penalise an individual who knowingly rents property to a homosexual.

Dude, isn’t having to clean the scent of potpourri and Arbor Mist out of the apartment punishment enough? If discussion of homosexuality is illegal, how are you going to brainwash your people that it’s evil? Not to mention, you can straight forget about your dude-centric movie nights when the law passes. What do you say to your detractors who might claim the punishment harsh, if not downright impossible to prove in the first place? Or ask you why you have so much gay porn laying around, which, I know, is so totally beside the point it might as well be the world’s biggest “I’m With Stupid” t-shirt?

However Ssempa has remained unrepentant, claiming he will take the pornography to the parliament.

Whew, I thought you wouldn’t have a rational, totally not retardo plan for this contingency. A priest that promises to roll up to parliament with a slide-show of tea-baggin’ jesus-hurtin’ pucker-blastin’ semen-gurglin’ analingus and three-ways has my full attention. Especially if they don’t donate a Ssempa wing to the local asylum. Let me follow you and learn of your ways, Rabbi! Sensei’s got a black belt in letting bitches know where he stands, and the dojo just exploded for not being able to contain his crazy cajones.

The pastor, whose previous feats included publishing the names of homosexuals in newspapers, said he wanted the bill to be passed as law by Easter Sunday — April 4 — as “an Easter present to the people of Uganda”.

To which Jesus responded, “I’m so happy I could just die… again!” and everyone shared a hearty 80′s sitcom closing laugh, complete with the ubitquitous queer burning.

(I got this story here, here, and here, all of which have slightly different interpretations. If you care then you’ve missed the point of this site, and will have to stay after school.)

(I’ll take my dinner in the den there, Edith. I’m watchin’ the fruit show on this here television thing. Its more entertainin’ than when the boys and I put shoe polish on our faces and pretended to be some of them coloreds.)

Opponents of Prop 8 in California, that fabled bill that banned gay marriage in California even after it was legalized there, are losers in the very literal sense of the word, as they fought for something they didn’t get. Well, you can add the “poor” prefix to that, because they’re bringing the decision to civil court. They just don’t know when to quit in their pursuit of equal rights and recognition as real actual people, as now they’re trying to get the case televised on as many networks as will carry it.

The move has had precedence since last September, when a ban on televising federal cases was lifted for the sake of good American God-fearing profit. Still, not everyone thinks this issue is as palatable for television audiences as the OJ and Spector murder trials. “Proposition 8 sponsors said that TV coverage of the trial, which is scheduled to begin on January 11, could expose witnesses to harassment and intimidation.” This is just something the gay community will never understand, having to remain anonymous in their opinions and ideals out of fear that someone might cause them mental or physical harm for expressing them publicly. Have a little compassion, all you people who want homosexual individuals to have the same rights as everyone else. There’s the safety of real people to consider here. Real people who feel as if… oh, what’s a good metaphor for this… feel as if they must hide in, say, a metaphorical closet because their ideas aren’t particularly popular. I’m still working on that one, but I feel like it might find its way into common vernacular once it is refined a bit.

“Some have already ‘indicated that they would not be willing to testify’ if the trial is televised,” and not only because they are afraid they might come off as public bigots instead of the closeted bigots they have become so comfortable being. Or that they are afraid their arguments, when presented in a public forum, might hold no water, or might be technically illegal when put into practice by any modern interpretation of the laws of the United States. Its just that they already won, and its not their fault, all those fairies wanting to make a federal case out of being deprived of their humanity.  We’ve always been comfortable letting stodgy, disconnected old men make laws about how we’re allowed to live our own lives behind closed doors before, why should that change just because “them gays just want everyone to notice them prancing around.” There is nothing more masculine, more distinctly heterosexual, than hiding in your intolerance panties behind a voting booth curtain, and then being unwilling to stand up in front of your enemies and fight for what you believe in.

If the history of the United States has taught us anything, its that you get straight capped for standing up for your beliefs publicly. “I have a dream, that one day, my children will not have to face the reality that people are different, or that they have the option of loving whomever they choose – -” BLAM! Proponents of Prop 8 need their opinions televised like they need a fucking hole in their heads. Badly.