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By Slocomb Jones. Happy Halloween, everyone! Truth be known, this is my most profitable time of year. The week of Halloween, I usually pull in a few hundred bucks thanks to various costume contests. One time, I had no idea what day or even month it was and I was passing through a college town somewhere. I saw a big house with funny letters on the side… I smelled cheap beer. I knew I’d found a home for the next few hours. Someone gave me a pill, a “mood enhancer” and I went crazy. I asked everyone for some spare cash over and over and over and over again… eventually they gave me $500 for best costume. I kept saying, “This isn’t a costume, it’s a lifestyle!” In the spirit of Halloween, I’d like to offer some of the wisdom of my travels around the world. I’ve been in a lot of scary places… but only a few actual haunted ones. For Halloween, here’s my top 4 most haunted places in the United States. 4. White House Motel – Thanks to the Presidents and history, the tourism industry is big in Washington DC. As a professional bum, you need to avoid tourist places. I know, I know, there’s lots of people with money… but since they’re in an unfamiliar place, they’re less likely to talk to strangers. Incidentally, that makes them more susceptible to muggings, but that’s not my style. I’m from the happy-go-lucky school of pro bumming. Anyhow, knowing this information, I took what cash I had and decided to treat myself to a room for the night. So, I checked out the White House Motel… it’s over by the courthouse in DC. I got a deal on a room for 8 hours. As soon as I got to my room, I stared hearing noises… like moans and stuff. Hold on, I know the difference between moans and the sounds of a working girl selling ten-dollar anal… and these were definitely moans. I went outside and saw a tall, skinny, bearded pale figure of a man wandering the hallway looking for a Ford or something. Next thing I know, he was gone. I should’ve known that a place with a roof is no place for a bum. I checked out after two hours. It’s too bad because the place was real nice. 3. Winchester Home – For most of his bumming career, Stinky Winchester was a bum’s bum. He was good people. One time, Stinky was simply following the cardinal rule of being a bum… picking up dropped lotto ticket. The thinking is clear: Maybe you’ll win enough for a bottle of good booze. It’s like our version of the lottery: the odds of picking up a dropped winner are the same as actually winning. Anyhow, Stinky picked up a winner that actually a HUGE winner! He found a dropped ticket that paid him over $50 million dollars! Stinky bought a huge house… but he soon started to see things. People from his past were appearing in the house. Stinky realized that these were the ghosts of all the people he bummed money from who were now dead and wanted it back! To escape from them, Stinky kept adding rooms to the mansion, trying to get the ghosts. It didn’t work, and Stinky spent all his money. Eventually, Stinky killed himself in the mansion. Now his ghost haunts the mansion too. A moral tale for all bums, if ever I heard one. 2. Alley Behind a Las Vegas Italian Restaurant – One time, I was in Las Vegas and I was sleeping out behind some Italian restaurant a few miles away from The Strip. It was late a bus drove by, and next thing I know, a bunch of people in the bus were taking pictures of me. I stood up to see what was happening… then they yelled at me and the bus drove off. This confused the hell out of me. Thankfully, a nice old gay man came up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “They thought you were me,” he said. “Well, I not,” I said. “I know you’re not, sweetie.” This guy had on some flashy, sparkly clothes, so the professional in me took over. “Excuse me sir,” I said. “Do you think you could spare a little...?” “My dear,” he laughed. “I haven’t needed my money for a long time now. Look at me… I’m fabulous. You don’t need money, honey.” He turned and walked away from me, but he didn’t have any feet!!! 1. Prison Cell on an Island – One time, after spending an evening in a haze in San Francisco, I woke up and found myself locked up in a dark prison cell. My head was cut, and I had a note pinned on me that said, “If you can read this… we didn’t hit you hard enough. Stay out of ‘Frisco, bum! – SFPD” Next thing I know, there’s a short, fat, Italian man in my cell. He said his name was Al “Cat” Raz, and that he was a mobster or something. I told him that I wasn’t looking from trouble, but he said he was here to help me. Like all criminals, he said he wasn’t guilty of anything, and that he stuck around there to help all innocent people leave this “rock.” Whatever that meant. Next thing I know, Al unlocked my cell door, tipped his cap to me, and then he walked through the wall! I gathered my bearings, took a quick nap, and then got out of that cell as fast as I could. It was long swim back to San Francisco. - Slocomb Jones has been a professional bum for over 50 years. In April 2007, he officially announced his retirement as a bum, and has segued into a successful second career as a retired bum and part-time bum coach/advisor. Ironically, he’s busier now that he’s retired than he’s ever been in his entire life.

By Linus, the Angry Mime. Hey. Ever so often, I like to read the newspaper. Sometimes my “reading time” consists of staring at the print while I’m in an alcohol-induced haze, waiting for the sweet release of vomit before I pass out. I read the paper because I’m a big fan of the obituary section, as well as any front page stories with things blowing up or being ripped apart. In short, newspapers should have news. Vital acts of chaos that brightens one’s spirits. Not crap like this! According to the article, some morons took a poll where a third of the bed wetters said they believed in ghosts. Ghosts! Look, I know most people are really hung up about purchasing their last piece of real estate, but that’s just sad. Wanting ghosts to exist is just lying to yourself. Like you’ve given up on the heaven/hell mindset, but you’re so desperate to avoid the wonderful idea that NOTHING else happens to dead people (except for decomposition, which is pretty fun) that you dry hump the notion of ghosts like some second-rate rebound lover. Whatever. People are gonna believe what they want, right? The point is that here’s a personality quirk that is begging to be exploited by the criminal mind. Instead of getting depressed about the rapidly declining intelligence of human beings, let’s get to work on milking them raw! Here’s how to do it: 1)Misdirection - The key here is the more subtle, the better. You’re more likely to scare those believers with something artful rather than with some special effects tape of fake wraith-like moans. Try this: find yourself as many bimetallic jumping disks as you can. You may have to find them on eBay or at a garage sale, but you’re better off getting the original jumping metal disks rather than the cheap plastic modern disks they sell today. The newer plastic ones don’t jump as high and they’re too thick. You’ll see why. Once you have several metal jumping disks on hand, you’ll need to plant them around the victim’s house. I recommend cranking up the heat in the house, warming the metal part of the disk with your hands, inverting it, then placing the disks until light household items ( papers, coins, etc.). When the metal on the disk reaches room temperature, the disk will rapidly jump in the hair, creating the illusion of paranormal activity. When the victim runs into the room, profess ignorance and mutter something about “spectral shadows.” Then, keep inverting and hiding the disks until your victim has a heart attack. At that point, the place is yours to rob! 2)Blind them with science - This next trick is not for the casual prankster. Although we are far from possessing invisibility cloaks, some Japanese guys have developed a jacket that also works as a rear projector, allowing the wearer to blend in with their surroundings from a distance. A round trip plane ticket to Tokyo and a few chloroform rags later... find a flat, uniform space near your victim’s house – like a wall. From there, slip on the jacket, and make sure no extremities are sticking out. That means genitalia, too! Once your victim is in earshot, disguise your voice and call out to them. Keep it up until they are about twenty feet away. At that point, slowly move away from the wall. Do this every day for a month, and they’ll go insane in no time! Any other fancy ideas on how to make their ghost-lovers flip their lid? Email me! LINUS - Linus is a world renowned mime artist whose productions “She Walks with Ghosts”, and “Sleep” have won him several international awards, such as the Deburau Prize He also served fifteen years in Oregon State Penitentiary for grand larceny. He trained in Paris at the International School of Corporeal Mime and will beat up anyone who has a problem with it.

By Linus, the Angry Mime Hey. You know the phrase “sticks and stones may break my bones…”? Well, it’s crap. Total crap. I bust my ass, sending in posts when I’m not performing or working on side projects to make some extra cash. I’m doing it to educate you internet morons about the life of crime, as well as the misunderstood art of pantomime. I’m sure as hell not doing it to get rich ( Tonto, you still owe me my goddamn money – if I’m not seeing green by Halloween, I’m gonna superglue your useless arms to a railroad track. Try typing your posts with bloody little stumps, bitch!!). But last week, I click on the site and find that Tonto allowed one of his writers to slander me and the good nature of mimes everywhere. You can read the whole post here, if you’re into masochistic crap. Here’s where Stephany goes on a tear: "But, pay close attention that they don’t invite any “artist” types over. They are very sensitive and wonderful with words and sensuality, but waaaaay to serious about true affection. Especially mimes." I guess they get a chance to talk for once… and they just run at the mouth until you either ‘finish them’ (not recommended because they will come back for more) or you bore them to death with made up regard for their work. If any of you morons have read at least one of Stephany’s “posts” (god, I hate calling them that – they’re more like a monsoon of crap), you know that the woman is a therapist’s wet dream. But it galls me that even one of you simple-minded turds is gonna think that this mime went soft and dipped his wick in that she-beast. My court-appointed shrink recommended I get this all out on paper (this was after I put a hole in her fish tank with my fist), so here goes. These are the reasons why I would never get involved with a girl like Stephany: 1) She is a crazy, crazy, woman - Yeah, I know what some of you mouth-breathers are thinking. Sure, she’s crazy, Linus. But I bet it’s a sexy kind of crazy. Uh-uh. She is not sexy/crazy, people. She is rubbing-feces-on-the-walls crazy. Catalogues-all-your-used-condoms crazy. The kind of crazy that makes you want to take a chemical shower if you even think about it too much. 2) She is a dirty, dirty liar - Try this, will you? Go to Amazon.com and look up any of the books she has claimed to have written. Watch your jaw not drop to the floor when you realize that you can’t find them anywhere. Why? Because it’s all back to Reason #1. I’m willing to bet her “books” are nothing more than drug-fueled binges written down on tree bark. 3) Having sex with her would be more painful than bobbing for fishhooks - Because, first of all, you’d have to let her talk. And her words are like small little cancer cells, ripping through the healthy fibers of your brain and leaving you drooling and wasted. Then, I’m willing to bet she’s never really had sex. Why? The vague little terms she uses to couch her “knowledge” of the act: “finish them”? See what I mean – it sounds like a line outta some cheesy videogame. I bet she thinks it goes in the ear, for crying out loud! Any other reasons why nobody should bump uglies with Stephany? Email me! LINUS - Linus is a world renowned mime artist whose productions “She Walks with Ghosts”, and “Sleep” have won him several international awards, such as the Deburau Prize He also served fifteen years in Oregon State Penitentiary for grand larceny. He trained in Paris at the International School of Corporeal Mime and will beat up anyone who has a problem with it.

By The Schmooz - theschmooz@hotmail.com

Hey there, ghosts and goblins!

October is a month of reminiscence. The mind reflects on what might have been had one’s life taken a few different turns.

Now, I’m not saying that your old pal, The Schmooz, has any regrets. Far from it, fair readers. I’ve been living large and loving the world over. My life is a dream.

But I wonder, just wonder, what my life would have been like if this Sultan of Sex, this Conquistador of the Climax, this Lord of Lust would have been born in a different time?

Would I still be able to spread my love and music to the population? Would the people of the past break free of societal restraints and groove until the springs break?

More importantly, would I be able to love the women in the past I’ve always wanted to love?

Let’s face it, readers. We all make mental lists of the partners we would do anything and everything to face flesh to flesh. The difference between your list and my list is that there’s nobody here on earth today I couldn’t share an afternoon with, you dig?

So, my list below is about those fine feminine creatures who loved loving before my time.

7) Billie Holiday - My god, what a gorgeous woman! I’d make sure the only thing she was addicted to was love and making sweet music. I’ve always had a soft spot for women with a troubled past. And, we’d do a whole bunch of duets – me, on her jazz albums, and she could sing with me on my songs. Oh, Billy, I miss you, girl.



6) Mata Hari - Dutch exotic dancer. Those three words alone would make the blood pump for any sexual creature. Mata was one fine sensual beast, let me tell you. I’d pretend to be some industrial millionaire, and we’d be swapping spit before my martini was empty.



5) Collette - This was a woman after my own heart, who loved everything and everyone she could. Not to mention a pretty good writer. She could write a ballet based on one of my songs, something like “Sexual Taffy.” Hell, she could even make out with one of her female lovers. The Schmooz is not the jealous kind, you dig?



4) Anne Boleyn - Again, the mojo heats up for a woman with some power. She was the brains behind a lot of Henry VII’s formation of the Church of England. Also, she had three breasts!



3) Mary Magdalene - I hear she does a great foot rub, and I’ve always had a place in my heart for sexy cats with red hair. Any of you carrot top ladies out there, holla!

2) Aphrodite - The very goddess of love herself. I’ve always wanted to meet her and thank her in person for this holy and remarkable gift. I think I’d sing her one of my guaranteed panty-melters, a little “Push a little harder, Baby” , and we’d be tussling and grinding up in the clouds for sure.



1) Cleopatra - Nothing is as attractive to the Schmooz as a woman who has plenty of power. Under my loving embraces, I’d make her forget all about that Mark Antony fellow, and give her the strength needed to keep her throne. Also, I’d use a little sexual therapy to make sure she never tried anything freaky like having a poisonous snake nip her in the breast.



Any historical people you’d like to crease the sheets with? Email me.

- Reginald Thurgood is known to his legions of fans as "THE SCHMOOZ," an international Rhythm and Blues singing sensation who has made love to thousands of women across the planet and loves to share every poetic detail. He answers all questions on love and relationship...as he is an expert, baby.

NOTE: If you liked this article, bust a move over to Your Fun Guide to Giving Women Gifts, The Best Xmas Songs to Put you in the Mood, and Guide to Giving Some Loving to Those Behind Bars!

By Bustamante Well… FOX News is at it again. In what should be no surprise to anyone, FOX is blaming Al Qaeda for the California wildfires. It got me to start thinking: what else are these bastards responsible for? Thankfully, my work as a Tennis instructor in Southern California has been hampered by all the smoke in the air, so I spent the past few days inhaling some smoke of my own, you know… the kind that expands your way of thinking. All of a sudden, during a commercial in between round two and the bonus round of a Press Your Luck re-run, it hit me. I figured it out! At first, I thought it was just FOX up to their old schtick... but then I realized that maybe they're on to something. Here's what else AQ is responsible for, causing a wave terror across the United States: Rocky V – Coming hot off the heels of ending the cold war with his two fists, and limited brain functioning, Rocky Balboa was the greatest American hero of all-time. Far superior than European terrorism expert John McClane. Of course, the US would call on their pugilistic hero to square off for 15 rounds (old school style), against a ten-foot desert warrior terrorist who represents all that there is to be afraid off. Rocky wins by stunning rd. 15 KO, thus ending the war on terrorism. BUT, in an act of genius foresight, Al Qaeda used their Hollywood connections (which exists, just ask Sean Hannity) to make Rocky V, making it the worst movie ever (excluding Crash and Gladiator), and forever altering the Balboa universe. There will be no desert showdown… America will not have it’s fighting hero. USC Losing the National Title – The year: 2006. The setting: The Rose Bowl. The players: #1 ranked USC Trojans and #2 ranked Texas Longhorns. The prize: The national title. What was really on the line: A cultural battle between the anti-war (Los Angeles, representing all peace lovers), and the pro-war (Texas, representing the pro-war). Like other classic battles in sports, this was more than just a game. It was a battle of political ideals dressed up in a the always effective and galvanizing straw man metaphor. Whichever team would score more points would, in turn, dictate the future of the war on terror. A future that Al Qaeda had a vested interest in. You see, for them to keep fighting… we have to keep fighting, you dig? That’s why, there was no way USC could win that game. Isn’t it obvious? Watch that game, the refs were blatantly on the side of Texas… now, follow the money, my friends. Who paid those refs? Who are their backers? Where’s their hidden agenda? I don’t know, but if you follow those question, you’ll find out who was responsible for the Trojans losing. Global Warming – Another obvious one, if you ask me. Think about it… where is Al Qaeda at its most dangerous? The desert! Why do you think they’re in the Middle East? They thrive at desert combat. So, if you have plans to rule the world… you’re best served to make the world a desert, right? That’s why they put all the oil there. The Slumping Real Estate Market – Those Al Qaeda are crafty, aren’t they? Read the headlines… the housing market is going down the tubes faster than TV ratings for the baseball playoffs. Does anyone stop to ask why? I did. You know what found out? It’s because of Al Qaeda! They want housing prices to drop so that it’ll be more affordable to buy a home in the US after they turn the world into a desert (see Global Warming for details). Despite the best work of real estate agents, prices keep going down. I say, support our real estate agents in this time of crisis! They are our last line of defense against these fascist fiscal financier fighters! I’m calling on all freedom loving patriotic Americans to wear yellow ribbons to support our real estate agents. Don’t be a “Defeat-o-crat” and buy a house for a low price. Do you want us to lose, you spineless pansy?! You better watch out, Tonto. With this level of investigative reporting, I’m likely to sign a huge network deal with FOX. [EDITOR’S NOTE: I doubt it, Bustamante. – Tonto] - Bustamante is the current Tennis instructor at a swanky Newport Beach, Ca. country club/yacht club. Not much is known about Bustamante except that he taught junior high math for a period of time in the 80’s, and that he’s pretty phenomenal with a hackysack. He was good enough to go pro, but corporate sponsorship just wasn’t there for the sport to get off the ground in the mid 70’s.

By Stephany Ericson People come and go in our lives like the well marbled beef at a livestock auction. Some are coveted for their obvious potential benefit to us. Others are discarded eventually because we feel they lack something. But all are subject to our friendship abbatoir at any time in our relationships with them. There have been times when I’ve hemmed and hawed about certain people; whether or not they deserved to be in my life any longer. With some, I’m glad they are still around... but others proved that they had no place in my nest of Sillys at all. Sadly, had I a system for deciding who should stay and who should go, many disappointments and even a few heartbreaks would never have occurred. As is the Modus operandi here, I will define my current system and then I will send you lovelies out into the world to do what you will. And pray that when you screw it up… you will not blame me, but instead will go scream at a baby, or something else that has proven to work. As with any system we must start with the basics. Many of you, I realize, are uneducated and while I find this somewhat limiting to my training and writing style my contract with Tonto strictly states that I need to “dumb it down when needed.” This would most assuredly be a case of “when needed.” The broadest constraints of a system are defined 1st, followed in succession by other aspects with increasing detail. So we will begin with the broadest constraints of friendship retention. 1. Are they better looking than you? If you are the type of person that desires, or in many of my friend's case, requires most of the attention upon you... then having a friend who is better looking than yourself can be challenging. However, if you are more comfortable in the role of “observer,” being with a head turner will not bother you much. Unless she happens to only show up after you’ve done all the hard work of finding out who in the group of traveling salesman has the company car for the evening. THAT is freaking annoying. 2. Does their home have a guest room? You will be spending quite a bit of time with your friends. If you are full of life and happy, most of this time will be spent with cocktails. If you are not happy, you shouldn’t drink. But you can swallow pills. Just don’t let anyone see you. They will think you are a drug addict. In any event, a friend with a guest room in their home is a friend indeed! When this friend invites you to their home make sure to pack for a few days. When you arrive bring in your luggage. That way they will know that THEY implied that you stay with them. How sweet! Where is the medicine cabinet? What pharmacy do they use? Is it nearby? Is the prescription # still on the bottle? Now it’s time for you to offer to go out and pick up some dinner, ice, heating pads, massage oil. In a stroke of luck you can get all of that at Rite Aid. Or Savon, or CVS, or WalGreens. No guest room? No room for friend I guess… 3. Do they know many men, or at least any literary agents? Now we are getting to some greater resolution regarding which people in your life have long lasting friend potential. We’ve established strong lines of demarcation relating to relative attractiveness and if they have a place to crash. What good is it to have found someone near your same attractiveness, that has a guest room... if they aren’t mother lode of potential manly company to share. Did I say share? Well… friends always share their toys don’t they? But, pay close attention that they don’t invite any “artist” types over. They are very sensitive and wonderful with words and sensuality, but waaaaay to serious about true affection. Especially mimes. I guess they get a chance to talk for once… and they just run at the mouth until you either ‘finish them’ (not recommended because they will come back for more) or you bore them to death with made up regard for their work. Where was I? Oh, if there are plenty of men friends, great. If even a few are literary agents, even better! Who knows where and with whom one can “strike a deal” 4. How good are they at the art of the bold face lie? Next, we must decide if this person whom we are to perhaps call friend can fabricate well. Can she fib with finesse? Lie laughingly? With Beulah and Lanny still upset at me for inadvertently speaking with a Special Agent, I look for friends with at least the same skill at truth bending that I have acquired. I mean… it’s a life tool isn’t it? We all know that “truth” is a matter of perspective. It’s good to find friends that share this wisdom. Although… if you choose to invite this type of person into your life… watch what they say. If they bite their lip when talking… you need to give them lessons on covering up more. 5. How fancy is their signature? Lastly, do they have checking, savings, and money market accounts from inheritance, injury settlements or divorce(s)? Some friends make you laugh, others make you feel good about yourself, but the best friends can advance you cash on your next book sale. Even if you have to give them a head start. Always carry a pen on your person… even when you are sleeping. You never know when you will be presented with an opportunity to do an impression of someone’s writing. Now you are all armed with my system of friend keeping! Good luck as you either expand your current stable of pals, or if you decide to pare down the herd. Good luck in Life and Love! Stephany - Stephany Ericson is an award winning author of children’s books such as “This Belongs to You”, “Gordita Runs the Marathon”, and “Artist Schmartist GO GET A JOB!”) Raised in Pacoima, Ohio by loving grandparents, educated in the Arab Emirates, and employed for 17 years by Art’s Pastry Shack she brings to her readers sugar coated, heart warming stories of redemption all wrapped in a non-traditional Burqua.

By Vans McCoy First off… go vote in the damn poll. Good. Now, on with today’s offering… Your job sucks. I know. It sucks a big hard one too. I know. I’ve been there. I’m not here to sympathize with you. No. I’m here to tell you that you’re an idiot because you continue to put up with it. I’ve worked at a lot of places. Gas Stations. Tattoo Parlors. Record Shops. Hospitals. As you know, I now run a successful independent video store. One of the many things I’ve learned while gainfully employed is that the people you work with are the stupidest people walking on the planet. In fact, I'm shocked that many of them have the mental prowess to walk upright. You know the best way to tell if the people are victims of severe head trauma, listen to the way they talk about the days of the week. Monday “Well, it’s Monday again. Another week…” – No. It’s another day to rape, pillage, and fight. It matters not that dumbass football was on all day yesterday. “The weekend’s never long enough” – That’s how you talk if you’re a bitch. Maybe if you didn’t spend all day in front of a TV drinking lite beer, and watching grown men in tights bounce on each other, you wouldn’t feel like the time was wasted. “Boy, I need that Monday morning coffee.” – I need a Monday morning 8-ball, but you don’t hear me bitching. If you’re going to have a chemical dependency, make it sexy. If Monday is such a problem for you… quit! Or just go in late. Just make sure that you have a boss you can physically intimidate or comfort with a deep dicking. Tuesday “I’m just glad it’s not Monday” – Are you still hung up on that day? Does the name of day have that much control over your life? “This is gonna be a long week.” – That’s only because you care about the stupid company you work for. I never have. I’ve always made sure that I work in places where I get paid the same whether we have customers or not. That way, I can focus on things besides work when I’m at work. Wednesday “Halfway through the week.” – Yeah, and? You’re the one who made life choices that force you to have a job you hate. Maybe you should’ve pulled out that night instead of thinking “well, one time won’t kill me.” You’re the one who went to a fancy private school that you couldn’t afford, so now you have to work in a field that you hate so that you can pay for learning about what you love, but the joke is… you’ll never actually get to use that knowledge except when it comes up on Jeopardy once a year. Dummy. So, don’t justify your repressed anger at yourself to me. You’re the one who messed up. See, that’s why I pull out EVERY TIME and didn’t bother going to school. Guess what? I’m better off than you! Thursday “At least the good shows are on TV tonight” – Hi, I’m Vans. Please, take this gun… oh no, I insist. OK, now put the business end in you mouth… that’s right. Now squeeze as hard as you can with your itty-bitty pointy finger…oh, don’t worry, it is loaded…. Whew, one less example of the "retard by nurture" argument. Network Television is a dead art form. Instead, they have these crazy things called books. These things actually stimulate your imagination versus masturbating all over it. Friday “Thank God, it’s Friday” – I’m sorry, thank who? Look, I’m no religious scholar, but I don’t think the calendar was established, by God, no less, to alleviate the stresses of your pitiful office job. You think Job ever uttered that phrase? What about Noah and his boat? The big imaginary man in the sky has better things to worry about besides your job. Get over yourself, you self-righteous egomaniac. “Happy Friday” – Have you ever noticed that the people who say this are the ones who spend the whole weekend getting thrashed in a futile attempt to make the memories of their horrible job vanish? Then Monday rolls around, and it’s right back to bitching about Monday. Doesn’t sound too happy to me. - Vans McCoy was knocked out at a Dead Kennedys show in the early 80’s and has been a cultural expert ever since. He has spent time in several small bands over the years. He sang for The Magnificent Cox, played bass in Manson’s Ranchers, and was lead guitarist for Televised Execution. He’s spent 347 days in local jails throughout the country and is now gainfully employed managing a local video store.

[EDITOR'S NOTE: Once again, Linus is a psychopath. If you follow his advice, you deserve the decades in jail that you will earn for yourself. And yeah, go vote in that damn poll, dammit. How hard is it to click on it?! <------------- - Tonto] By Linus The Angry Mime Hey. So, Halloween’s just around the corner. Little boys and girls are roaming the neighborhoods to loot and plunder whatever they can carry. Teenagers are destroying mailboxes, throwing eggs and toilet paper, and lighting bags of crap on fire. Grown-ups are getting drunk and trying to impress each other to see who looks more ridiculous in a cheap costume. It’s a great holiday for anarchy. But why stop there? These acts of malfeasance are nothing compared to the grand levels of mischief and disorder you can cause this Halloween. Take it from me; I’ve been working at destroying society for decades. I consider it one extended performance project. Conceptual theatre, if you will. Follow these tips below to get the most out of your Halloween season. And, if for some reason, you’re too stupid to cover your tracks or wipe off your fingerprints, and you get arrested, I’m not responsible. Okay? Okay. 1)Population Explosion - I’m already assuming you know how to break into apartments or houses. If you don’t, go play Candy Land with the other babies. For the rest of you, you’ll need your standard lock picking tools, lots and lots of thin blue mints, and a few safety pins. Once you break into a house, find where the birth control is located. It’s either in the medicine cabinet or nearby the bed. Then, proceed as follows: swap the birth control pills with the thin blue mints, and poke very small holes in the condoms with the safety pins. Do it carefully; you don’t want the condoms to look altered in any way. I’ve been doing this prank for years now, and the birth rate in my town’s gone up twenty-five percent. More babies means more poor people. More poor people means more anger. More anger means more violence. More violence means the sweet explosion of rage. 2)Weeding out the weak - Read your local newspaper thoroughly. When you see a graveside service posted, get to the cemetery in the middle of the night, once they’ve dug the plot. Bring a step stool. Then, lay down in the plot, and camp out there overnight. Set your watch an hour before the service. When you hear people coming towards you, whip out the step stool, and stand up quickly. Then, run like hell! 3)Baby Swap - Order a preserved pig from an online medical store. When it arrives, dress it up in baby clothes and go for a walk. When you see a parent with a stroller, make the switch. Do it quickly- the parental bond is strong, and you really can’t chloroform babies without killing them ( don’t ask!) And, once you’ve pulled this off, you can find other uses for your prize. 4)Harvesting - Chloroform an adult. Once unconscious, strip them naked, and move them to a tub filled with ice. Color the ice with food coloring so that it looks bloody. Then, leave a kidney (again, you can buy it at a online medical store, if you’re a wimp!) on the floor next to the tub. Be sure it looks bloody as well. Leave a note on the person’s stomach (something like “You have thirty minutes to make it to a hospital") and when they wake up, wait for them to scream. Once they do so, send a hungry dog into the tub. The sight of them chasing after a dog with a kidney in its mouth will fill you with joy for years to come! Got any other good Halloween pranks! Email me. LINUS - Linus is a world renowned mime artist whose productions “She Walks with Ghosts”, and “Sleep” have won him several international awards, such as the Deburau Prize He also served fifteen years in Oregon State Penitentiary for grand larceny. He trained in Paris at the International School of Corporeal Mime and will beat up anyone who has a problem with it.

By Stephany Ericson When something in the way life is lived and has just not been working out, one hopes that one's Spritely will kindly, and in some not too obvious way, let one know so that appropriate changes can be made. This has happened to me many, many times over my blessed years on Earth. Perhaps it has happened to you as well. I hope that you, dear readers, have been as successful in making life altering changes as I have. But since I doubt that is the case I will offer up(FREE!) my strategies for overcoming some of my most troublesome "lifeblocks" in the past. Pick and choose for yourselves. These are tried and true methods of getting one's life back on track after a series of derailments, or in my case, and perhaps yours…several derailments. Possibly too many. But, who is counting? Onward to self-improvement! 1. Chores - As a young girl with many of those other children in the household, I was assigned my share of chores: Even as a young budding mind I recognized the need for me to help the family with manual labor. But, I also knew that the specific chores I was given were far beneath me. This caused great harm to my nascent self esteem. In my memory this was the 1st time I experienced the confusion of "my life isn't working." Like other 1sts in life…it was quite painful. In agony for weeks, my loving spritely worked within me to forge change. Soon 2 possible solutions came to me, thanks to my spritely. I could a) knuckle down and continue to do the nasty work of potty clean up hoping that as soon as I proved to be an expert that Beulah and Lanny(my foster grandparents) would move me to another less filthy chore as a reward, or b) I could subtly suggest that one of the other children might be better suited for this chore. For the next two weeks I refused to use the commode, but instead found other places in the home to eliminate. At first it was difficult to get up at 3am and sneak to an improvised potty spot. But as with anything else, the more you do something, the better you get at it. Beulah began to watch all of us children very closely in an attempt to catch the crap culprit. That's when I rigged a special receptacle to catch the doo doo of one of the other children. She was having a spate of dysentery that week, so when the contents of the receptacle were later found among the dirty dishes, I was forever relieved of bathroom clean up! Thank you Spritely!! 2. Sport! - Now that I am several years removed from athletics… I honestly don't know if I ever was top notch! But as a youth, I was quite sure that I was. Isn't that part of the point of youth sports? To build confidence, character, and muscles? In my High School years I gravitated toward the stick and ball culture of Field Hockey. I enjoyed the running, the occasional violence, and I looked really hot in that skirt. As fortune would have it, I was in a group of 11 other girls who were the same grade as I and they played all 4 years as well. By the time we were seniors we were a formidable gaggle of hockey wielding fem-teen athletes. What wasn't working you ask? Well it was not our win-loss record. We went undefeated in League play that year. In fact in the 14 League games that season we only allowed 6 goals scored on us. Very impressive. But… I did not play 1 minute of that season. I practiced, dressed, and traveled for every game. The coach, who also owned a Carwash and Tackle shop in town, never put me in a game even if we were way ahead. That was what was not working. As the team marched through the State Playoffs that year I began to wonder…"if the team wins the Championship and I don't even play one minute in any of the games…am I really a member of the team, or a Champion?" Thankfully, I had learned years ago how to awake early in the AM without being detected. So, on the eve of the State Championship game I was able to put several small holes in the gas tank of the team bus without being missed from the team sleepover. When the bus ran out of gas 15 miles from the stadium in semi-rural Ohio, and the faces of my teammates turned from confident athletes on their way to conquer another opponent, to crying, whining, panicked children… I knew I was once again a member of the team: Not one of us would play a minute in the Championship. All was right again in my world. Thank you Spritely! 3. Love - This writing space has already seen too much of the history of my ragged love life. I've waxed ever so eloquently upon the slate-hearted ex-lovers that dot my coital landscape. So, I will not venture there yet again today. One aspect that has remained constant in all of those break-ups is the pain and sense of loss each of those men put me through. From my 1st broken heart back in elementary school to my most recent love that did not gel, I have been stopped dead in my tracks with sadness, grief, and the un-pleasant knowledge that it is many years in prison to do what is in my heart-of-hearts. Once again, very recently my Spritely has been diligently at work upon a soul relieving solution. Very simply: Scream. At home, in the car, while writing, while eating, when waking up. Just scream. Add obscenities if you feel so inclined. Your throat will become hoarse, but your voice will eventually heal, unlike your broken heart. I have found that screaming at males works quite well to heal the scarred love wounds. And more specifically young males. Not 20 somethings or school kids… but actual male babies. For they are the future of "love"… so I've found that if I get in the face of a male baby and scream that he will, "never, ever get close enough to my heart to do any damage and that he is just a user and a creep," that I feel wonderful. Thank you Spritely! - Stephany Ericson is an award winning author of childrens books ("Pasta Rat", "Compromises are for Sissy's" and "Daddy Loves Mommy Even in the Middle of the Night") Raised in Pacoima, Ohio by loving grandparents, educated in the Arab Emirates, and employed for 17 years by Art's Pastry Shack she brings to her readers sugar coated, heart warming stories of redemption all wrapped in a non-traditional Burqua.

By Vans McCoy Everyone loves a unique costume, right? Of course they do! No one wants to be a lame pirate or vampire. There’s no better time for humorously obscene social commentary than on Halloween. Let’s take a look at some of the more ripe celebrity Halloween costumes this season. 7. Whoopi Goldberg “Predator” – This is probably the best bargain on the list because you can be two celebrities with one costume. You could pretend to host The View with pre-scripted “controversial” comments… or, you could be a menacing space warrior that annihilates everyone in sight. You’ll be the favorite of the sci-fi fan boys and repressed soccer moms who disguises herself as intelligent. No matter what though, if someone isn’t getting the dick they so secretly crave, you’ll be a hit with them. 6. Dane Cook with a “Mortal Head Wound” – They say pain is funny. I say, let’s put the theory into a real life setting. Don’t get me wrong, I would never wish harm on anyone in real life, but c’mon, it’s Halloween, let’s have some fun. Head wounds are funny. Dane Cook isn’t. Dane Cook with a head wound… fucking hysterical! 5. Fred Thompson “Unwrapped Mummy” – Sometimes things are covered up for a reason. Like the fact that George W. Bush’s Grandpappy supported the Nazi’s… Ooops, you didn’t know that? My bad. He did. See. Anyway, mummies are also covered up for a reason. That reason is that they look like Fred Thompson when unwrapped. ‘Ol F.T. Mummy You see! Awesome blend of humor, horror, and politics. 4. David Spade “Everlast Punching Bag” – This is my personal favorite. It’s fairly simple to do also, though it requires it certain level of pain management. Take an old punching bag and gut out the insides. Cut a hole out at the top for your face to fit into. Grow a thin beard like a 12 year old and tell the worst jokes ever in the course of human history. Be ready to be punched all night. 3. Christopher Reeve “Superman” – This one is “super” easy. All you need is a wheelchair, and tons of booze. The more you drink, the better the costume gets. Eventually, you reach a point where you can’t move and you piss and shit yourself. Remember, it’s this level of realism that will separate you from the pack. 2. Britney Spears “America’s Metaphor for sex” – Admittedly, this is more of a concept costume than the others and only works over the course of an actual Halloween party. Sure, there's the “white trash” Britney, or the “soon to be caught on an episode of DOG The Bounty Hunter” Britney, but that’s too easy. Here’s my idea: You start the evening looking as hot as possible, and waxing poetically on your virginity and moral character. We’ll want to really nail you, but will pretend to respect you. Later on, you’ll start to drink, flirt a little, maybe hook up with a guy or two… basically, you’ll be informing us that our deepest, nastiest fantasies are actually a reality and we now have to look at ourselves and face what we thought was locked away in our subconscious. Because of that, we’re going to start hating you. You’ll quickly learn that we never respected you and your evening will turn to shit. You’ll be the butt of jokes, and nobody will be there when you’re puking into the gutter. After a few hours of this, you will become so unattractive that we’ll be able to, once again, repress our nasty desires. And no, I can’t give you a ride home from the Halloween party. 1. Corey Haim “Homeless Crack Addict Sucking Dick for Money in the Men’s Room” – This is by far the easiest costume to pull off. Take a marker and draw some really bad tattoo’s on your arm. Go for the ever awesome “barb wire arm wrap” if you can. Then, hit up your local thrift store and hook yourself up with the gnarliest threads from the early 90’s. Bonus points for anything Hyper-Color or Cross Colors! From there, it’s fairly simple: you go to work. If you’re at a party, hang out in the bathroom and offer to service every person who comes in there because you, “just need the cash, man.” After a while, when people are smashed, you might actually make a few bucks. Just like Corey. Happy Halloween!!! Vans - Vans McCoy was knocked out at a Dead Kennedys show in the early 80’s and has been a cultural expert ever since. He has spent time in several small bands over the years. He sang for The Magnificent Cox, played bass in Manson’s Ranchers, and was lead guitarist for Televised Execution. He’s spent 347 days in local jails throughout the country and is now gainfully employed managing a local video store.

By Linus the Angry Mime Hey. So, a clown’s been gunning for me. His name’s Mr. Smiles. Seriously. It all started last week when I was just about to set up shop on the street and do a little busking. However, when I arrived, I find my coveted spot has been taken by this fat, little man wearing stilts, an oversized polka-dot bow tie, and a green wig. Nobody busks in my spot. They just don’t. After I introduced Mr. Smiles to the pavement with a swift kick to his stilts, the bastard tried to tell me that the city gave him a permit to perform there. Starts waving it in my face like a magic freaking wand or something, like it would have saved him from me ripping it up in from of him and making him eat every last scrap before I generously sent him to sleep with a few key pressure points. And, because he had clearly wasted my artistic talents with a very thorough ass-kicking, I helped myself to the cash he had made and split. So, now, Mr. Smiles and his buddies have been roaming the city looking to get even. A couple of my fellow mimes have been jumped. The Fabulous Renee, a Belgian mime who does this pretty cool interpretation of a lobster in the throes of death, got laid up at the hospital a few days ago. So, it’s time to make with the hurting, and meet Mr. Smiles and his pathetic little tribe tomorrow back at my favorite busking spot. Clowns are weak little bitches, plain and simple. They only fight fairly well as a group, and they’re as dumb as a cord of wood. If you ever see a clown out there, try these tips below, and let’s bring these clowns down, one by ever-loving one. 1)Call them Bozo - Start with this one. Clowns know that for all their feeble little attempts to make people laugh, they don’t hold a candle to their god, Bozo the clown. And even the worst mime holds more entertainment value than that guy. So, when you see them, don’t call them by their made-up “clowny” name that is supposed to make children collapse with glee, but only serves to make them look like perverted aunts and uncles. Shit like “Uncle Chuckles,” “Baby Wumpus,” “Silly Gilly.” Call them Bozo. Call them Bozo over and over again until they are screaming at you to stop. Thus, you will have weakened their little resolve, which moves us on to the next step. 2)Steal their nose - Know one reason why mimes are brilliant and clowns are hacks? Clowns are slaves to props and costumes. Especially their cheap ass, bright red foam noses. Without these noses, they are pathetic adults who live in their grandmother’s basements and are subtly omitted from the Christmas family newsletter in order for their parents to preserve one single shred of dignity. Grab their nose, and run like hell. 3)Shoot blowgun darts at their balloon animals - If you want to see a clown weep like a baby, this is the trick. Hide in the bushes, and when a clown is hard at work making some snot dripper a dog from a balloon, hit it with the darts. Remember to blow, not suck in the darts. Trust me, you do it wrong, and it’s a mandatory trip to the emergency room. Do this for fifteen minutes, and even the most stable clown will lose their mind. 4)Challenge a clown to a game of Russian Roulette, then rig the game - As you may know by now, clowns are miserable, depressing people, just begging for the sweet slumber of grandmother death. What the general public doesn’t know is that many clown tribes play this game habitually, just to thin out the herd. It won’t take any prodding at all for them to accept a game – especially if you pretend to be a mime. Then, use two guns. Empty yours, and load all of his with untraceable wadcutter bullets. If you don’t have the balls to try this, screw you! It works well, and it works often. 5)Cut the brake line in their clown car - Or, try the tip I have in mind for Mr. Smiles and his crew. Clowns by and large don’t know jack about automotive repair. A couple of snips, a little accident, and the problem’s solved. Any other ideas on how to rub out the clowns? Email me. LINUS - Linus is a world renowned mime artist whose productions “She Walks with Ghosts”, and “Sleep” have won him several international awards, such as the Deburau Prize He also served fifteen years in Oregon State Penitentiary for grand larceny. He trained in Paris at the International School of Corporeal Mime and will beat up anyone who has a problem with it.

For Immediate Release 10/16/07 By Tonto and Friends staff What would you do if forced to be in the witness protection program? That’s the question we posed to the readers of Tonto and Friends, the web’s premiere humor destination. The poll was based on a recent article by Tonto and Friends staff writer, Linus The Angry Mime, on how to survive should you ever find yourself in the witness protection program. Click here to read the original article. The poll showed that, if given the option, Americans would choose to “hold skinny dipping parties at [their] safe house – but all the guests would have to wear blindfolds – no peeksies!” One third of all voters chose this option. “Look jerk,” said Linus The Angry Mime. “I don’t care what people selected. No matter how you spend your time in the Program, it's better than actually being in it. I mean, what’s the alternative? Getting your spleen forcibly removed by the hungry ferret of a local crime lord? No thank you! It’s time for naked pool parties at my house!” That’s a sentiment that Tonto and Friend love columnist, The Schmooz, agrees wholeheartedly with. “Think about it,” said The Schmooz, “Take a look at your choices. Anytime you have any reason to see the female flesh, as only the Lord envisioned, I mean, the choice is obvious, isn’t it baby? Plus, I like the idea of blindfolds… kinky. Only Schmooz gets to peek. Loving it!” There was a tie for second place between, “Reconcile my criminal past by developing a light-hearted bond with my government protectors, discovering that, despite our radically different background, we are united as brother and men,” and, “change my name to Tonto Balboa and attempt to rebuild the respect and talent that name has lost over years and years of pathetic neglect,” both coming in at 20% of the vote. “Whoever picked that ‘Reconcile’ crap is an idiot,” said Vans McCoy, the newest Tonto and Friends staff writer. “I’ve done a lot of overnight stints. I mean, a lot. The last thing I wanted to do was develop a bond with my captors. Maybe bond their head with steel pipe, but that’s it.” Tonto Balboa, editor and chief of Tonto and Friends was shocked at his name being mentioned as a possible selection. “The last time I was part of a ballot,” said Balboa, “was in the 1983 Ring Magazine year end reader’s poll in the ‘Biggest Bust of the Year’ category. I came in 4th, but the competition was tough that year. It’s nice to still be remembered and that even nicer to know that 20% voted for me… wait, what was the topic? Oh… What was the answer? Oh no… Never mind. How did this poll get past me? Who OK’d this?” “I voted for Tonto,” said Bustamante, Tonto and Friends political correspondent, “But it was a protest vote. I would’ve liked to have been able to write in Ralph Nader. But the next best spoiler was Tonto.” Rounding out the vote was, “charging 573 pizzas to the government – screw ‘um!” coming in with 13% of the vote. This was an option that catered to the passive aggressive, the angry, and the borderline psychotic. Not surprisingly, it was endorsed by the most celebrated author on the Tonto and Friends staff, Stephany Ericson, author of, “The Low Down”, “Eat this for a Quarter” and “Daddy has Stubble in Funny Places.” “I like pizza,” Ericson said. “I can’t think of a better way to pull a prank on someone than ordering a pizza to their door. Then, when the pizza man is upset, Mommy goes out there and ‘cuts a deal’ with the pizza guy. They go to ‘negotiate’ in the front seat of the pizza van… Mommy’s rests her head on the guy’s lap, and a few minutes later, we have food for the week.” Tonto and Friends resident professional bum, Slocomb Jones, could not be reached for comment, though we assume that he would’ve endorsed the pizza option too, as he is a bum, and bums will never turn down free food. - Tonto and Friends is a collective of some of the top comedy writers and life bloggers on the planet. They come from all parts of the globe and various life experiences. Together, they bring a daily source of humor and useful life information.

By The Schmooz Hey there, sausage links and scrambled eggs! There ain’t a whole lot in the United States of Schmooz that gets my goat, dear readers, but when something threatens one’s very livelihood, you’d be a fool not to sit up and take notice. Last week, I was engaging in one of my favorite post-coital rituals; a little white wine, a little noise on the television box, you dig? All of a sudden, I see a public service announcement that stopped my breath cold. It was by far the most horrifying thing I have ever seen in my sexual life (and I’ve seen people making love in just the missionary position, clothes on, so I know horror). You can see the video for the commercial here. My lady friend told me it was just the government’s way to get children to try abstinence until marriage. At first, I thought she was talking about that crazy European drink that tastes like a spice-flavored brick. But, then my Countess of consummation explained that it wasn’t about getting the kiddies to drink, it was about telling them not to have sex at all until each of them is wearing a ring. Well, that was the saddest thing I had ever heard! How can those lovers in training truly understand how to corral and nurture those fierce, biological urges if they ignore them for years and years? Hell, I didn’t have sex for three days once, and I was so wild and out of sorts I ever considered making love to my vacuum cleaner, you dig? But then, I got to thinking: these government fat cats have their own selfish reasons for making sure the young ones don’t get to play in any lovemaking games. Here’s why they’ve told the teenagers to nix the nookie until nuptials: 1)They are jealous of teenager’s raw, sexual energy - Think about it, readers. These kids are like a coiled spring, twenty-four hours a day. Anything and everything will lead their young, creative minds towards attraction and desire. Throw in a Schmooze album ( I recommend Just the Right Touch), and boys and girls everywhere have enough pent-up energy to power a small city. People in the government don’t have such constant sexual energy, or the time to cultivate it like the young or those blessed sexual few such as myself. And they are bitter about it. What better way to act out then to tell America’s young to lay off the epicurean delights of sweet, taut flesh? 2)They want more sexual access to men and women - If somebody in power is preventing you from tasting sexual fruit, what do you think happens to the surplus of beauty? The men and women in our government are there to gobble it up like a retiree at a 4pm Tallahassee shrimp buffet. And, because they’re married, it’s okay for them (in their minds) to have a spouse and family and drink from the tavern of temptation until they are drunk with lust. 3)They want people to embarrass themselves in the most unholy manner by participating in excruciatingly bad wedding night sex, only to divorce shortly afterwards - If you own a gun, a tool of immense power, pleasure, and danger, you sure as hell are gonna take lessons and practice until you feel confident in its use. Same with your vagina and your penis, readers. If you do not explore these sacred organs with one another, the shame and torture of breaking in these gifts on a stressful honeymoon night at the Ramada Inn will break your heart. First time sex is not mind-blowing, readers. Even the Schmooz knows that. But having the humility, patience, and self-awareness to know how to use your loving parts, and how to adapt your sensual skills with your lover is the first step to being a mature adult. Also, many government types are lawyers. They stand to make a lot of money in bitter, ugly divorce settlements. The biggest factor in most divorces is sexual incompatibility, you dig? Pretty hard to trust the government when they want you to be a sexual failure. 4)They want to keep people poor by leaving them to create unwanted babies - A lot of young folks are gonna look at the government’s commercial telling them to wait until marriage and tell them to butt out. But, because no other education and advice is given to children, they’re at risk for giving in to love’s forceful calling and use faulty protection, or worse, no protection. More sexually transmitted diseases (babies) come about, which cost money, which keeps people in a lower income bracket. More poor people means the rich government types can stay in power, and less people buy my cds. Any other thoughts on why “The Man” is trying to take away loving? Email me! THE SCHMOOZ - Reginald Thurgood is known to his legions of fans as "THE SCHMOOZ," an international Rhythm and Blues singing sensation who has made love to thousands of women across the planet and loves to share every poetic detail. He answers all questions on love and relationship...as he is an expert, baby.

by Stephany Ericson In this Human life we start as just a screaming mass of sticky/wet pink flesh. Quickly things change. We are young and know next to nothing. We are nurtured by those who love us, or tell us they do. We grow and learn for the most part. We may discover talents and abilities within ourselves. We may be encouraged to develop these talents, to test these abilities. Or we may sneak off and emulate the dirty limericks in Daddy’s bathroom magazines... because we “get” the syntax and rhyme of it all. We go to school. Our knowledge base may increase. Our popularity, even though paltry, may plummet further as we become obsessed with writing every thought we have onto paper for later reflection and analysis. Or we may become a cheerleader and get a “scholarship” to go to school upstate with Stanley, the quarterback, who really wasn’t that cute after all really. May I remind you that jealousy is for the weak? Eventually we find OURSELF and our mission in life, our passion to pursue. For me, it has been writing, which I found to be much easier than kicking my legs up in the air while twirling pom-poms and screaming-but there are some people who are good at that. If one follows their passion with dedication a wonderful occurrence awaits: the arrival of The Muse. During this time mining the depths of one’s soul is effortless. Putting pen to paper is a joy as fervent as a Thursday afternoon nap. Reams are filled with cogent, provocative insight into the human condition. One can smell a phat publication advance. And then without warning… the Muse decides to skip town! To play hookey, to vamoose for good! Not only does the Muse’s absence stem the flow of creativity - the missing Muse seems to render all previous brilliant writing into meaningless gibberish not worthy of school newspaper publication (Apologies to the Harvard Crimson). There is a period of time in our lives when we should be riding the crest so to speak. We have hopefully found our natural calling and with great dedication and effort should be moving toward greatness in our field. Or if our Muse has left we become a Childrens Book Author, a spurned lover and fond of swallowing opiates. Here are some things to do as you wait for you Muse to return to you. Become a golfer I’m not even talking about regulation links. Who has the time for that? I’m talking about no holds barred, after hours Miniature Golf in the Nude! Think that windmill shot is a no brainer? Try it holding a flashlight between your knees with your breasts flopping around free! Several of the men in my Wednesday night foursome have actually singed their scrotum by taking too long preparing their shots. Serves them right for having big flashlights and scrotums. FORE! Date Some Crazy People No other activity in your life experience can show you just how sane you are than dating a crazy person. It’s best to pick someone who doesn’t think they are crazy…but clearly are. Do they have 35 pairs of shoes, but 47 Left shoes? Do they wear ties made of wood? Do they have a painting of themselves painting? Do they frequently stop talking in mid-sentence in order to go take a shower? Does foreplay for them consist of saying “Lay down”? Take notes, title them: CRAAAAAYZY. Refer to them often when you need a laugh. Join an Improv Group Many people spend decades studying the fine art of acting, when all you really need to do to act, is join an Improv group. No lines to memorize, no character to “get into” (what a load of horse poop, as my grandfather would say). No real way to make a “mistake,” because it can always be explained as “I was experimenting” followed by “blow me, hack.” Bring a recording of your friends laughing. It will be useful on performance nights. Steal Some PIN’s If you are skillful with your grocery store chatter, you can get right next to someone at the register. As you pass on a false comment regarding their lovely, well behaved brats, they will lovingly look over at them and say “thank you.” Save that comment for the moment they are going to input their credit card PIN. Use your peripheral vision, it’s essential. Next, while their card is still out say, “oh, MY GOODNESS SHE FELL!” Their head will turn toward their little future floozy. That’s when you take the card. Buelah taught me this entertainment 30 years ago. It still works. Who wants Ostrich steak? Start Blogging with Your Friends Get a website together, then tell your friends to write anything they want to. Publish it on the website. Quite likely, you will be the talk of the internet… if your friends are anything like mine are. One is a lawyer, one is a banker, one is an athlete. None of them have a clue about entertaining with words, so I get a great big kick out of reading their drivel. Don’t worry none of them read this. They have jobs. Learn to play an instrument Before you go out to the music store and rent a Trumpet, or put a down payment on an Oboe, I will tell you that the world already has enough great Trumpeters & Oboists. Pick something no one has ever played before. INVENT an instrument. You will be the 1st virtuoso! I strung together 7 of my old writing journals and dipped them in liquid copper. Now they make a great instrument I call: Lost Potential. What a hellish racket they make. Will it be hellish enough to get MY MUSE TO FREAKING RETURN TO ME??!?!?! I don’t know. GIVE ME MY WORDS you Selfish Greek Bitch. I’m sorry. - Stephany Ericson is an award winning author of childrens books (“The Low Down”, “Eat this for a Quarter” and “Daddy has Stubble in Funny Places”) Raised in Pacoima, Ohio by loving grandparents, educated in the Arab Emirates, and employed for 17 years by Art’s Pastry Shack she brings to her readers sugar coated, heart warming stories of redemption all wrapped in a non-traditional Burqua

By Bustamante That history… she can sure be a bitch, can’t she? Telling you what to do. Bossing you around. She’s so damn preachy too. Blah, blah, blah… shut up, right? That’s what many think, but whereas history may be a bitch, ego can sure be a sum’bitch. As we all know, history repeats itself. No more so in ever in history than on today 10/11. If we’d only taken the time to look back on the events of this day, we could have changed the course of history. We didn’t. Somewhere, off in the distance, Ms. History is nagging us, saying she told us so. 10/11 is no longer an American day. It’s a global day where we can look back an see where we went wrong… and see if it’s not too late to fix it! 7. 1582 – The original Missing in Action (and no, not starring Chuck Norris). Thanks to the implementation of the Gregorian Calendar, 10/11 does not exist in this year in many parts of Europe! Metropolitan centers of the Old World such as Italy, Spain, Portugal, and Poland, went from 10/10 right to 10/12. What about the people who celebrated birthdays, or anniversaries that day? Future Implication: The first recorded technological glitch in history. Technology might make our world efficient, but at what cost? The loss of time itself? What about people who were born that day? Do they not exist? They must not, according to the Gregorians! At what point do we accept technological progress over human lives? 6. 1776 – The Battle of Valcour Island. A pivotal sea battle in the American Revolution saw the British naval fleet defeat the American rebels who were under the leadership of future traitor Benny Arnold. While the battle was a loss for the freedom fighters, it proved to be a strategic loss for the Britsh Empire, as the Americans were able to prepare for the battle of New York. Future Implication: America loses her innocence and has been jaded ever since! 5. 1975 – Saturday Night Live debuts. A new standard of short film/sketch comedy is introduced to the masses and becomes a cultural torch-bearer. Future Implication: Dumbing down of the masses. Mediocrity becomes the new excellent. 4. 1809 - Death of Meriwether Lewis. Famed explorer Meriwether Lewis died under mysterious circumstances while partying in a local Nashville tavern. Some say suicide, while say that Lewis was murdered Future Implication: The establishment and acceptance of the cover-up murder/suicide as popularized in the 20th century. Why? Who knows? Jealousy between him and William Clark? Perhaps a love affair involving Sacagawea? 3. 1890 - Foundation of The Daughters of The American Revolution. I’m not really sure what they do other than being a bunch of really old women with a lot of time on their hands who like to procrastinate. Future Implication: Special interest groups of all kinds begin to form, linking themselves to politicians and pillaging the American people of their tax money. Corruption is invented! 2. 1910 – Teddy Roosevelt becomes the first US President to fly in an airplane. The setting was St. Louis. Roosevelt spends 240 seconds airborne inside a Wright Brothers' custom plane. Future Implications: Weight restrictions on all commercial and private vehicles put into place. Lunar expedition (and thus the Cold War) are first discussed! 1. 1939 - Einstein communicates with FDR about the atom bomb. Actually, no need for further description needed. Future Implications: The human race jumps the shark. - Bustamante is the current Tennis instructor at a swanky Newport Beach, Ca. country club/yacht club. Not much is known about Bustamante except that he taught junior high math for a period of time in the 80’s, and that he’s pretty phenomenal with a hackysack. He was good enough to go pro, but corporate sponsorship just wasn’t there for the sport to get off the ground in the mid 70’s.

Hey there, compliments and put-upons! Your pal , the Schmooz is hard at work deciding what sort of Halloween costume I and two fine young creatures plan to wear for the holidays. I’m leaning towards a “love slave” motif, with my nubile companions dressed in tight black leather, while I’m naked, save for a loin cloth, my arms bound with their silken black panties. Halloween makes the Schmooz think of chocolate, and chocolate makes me think about the humdrum foods that lovers use time and time again to try and reconcile their love life. Forget the chocolate, the snails, the bananas, the oysters, the pickles, dear readers! Those are laughable clichés. And clichés have no place in love’s sweet hour. Lovers, you have got to think beyond what you see in the movies. Sometimes, the most ordinary foods can make a lover swell and burst with their heavenly musk. Here are a few of my time-tested concoctions I use when making a place in my life for Eros, the true and wondrous spirit: 1)Red Vines - Wrap one of those ropes around your lips, and tease your love with your soft, skillful manipulation of tongue and licorice. Or, have each of you take an end of a Red Vine, and race your way to the middle! Plus, those Red Vines have grooves, pleasure-seekers. I can think of a couple itches one could scratch with them… you dig? 2) Candy Corn - Readers, I can only imagine that your faith in The Schmooz wavers when you read this. You may ask yourself, “Why would The Schmooz, sexual iconoclast that he is, suggest that I eat candy corn, which tastes like chewing on earwax?” But I’m not. Don’t you dare eat that candy corn, lovers. It’s a mood killer most foul. I only recommend chewing on the stuff if you need to slow your horses down in the middle of a coital trot. Instead, freeze your candy corn. Tell your lover to close their eyes, strip them bare, and sprinkle the frozen treat across their flesh. Less messy than ice, and ever so nice! 3) Everlasting Gobstoppers - I’m not talkin’ bout those children’friendly, smaller sized, chewy Gobstoppers, lovers. I mean the 1970’s, tough as nails candy. You got to search high and low to get them. I know a guy, so it’s a little easier for me. Once you get a hold of this sweet little treat, settle in for a make-out session with your special some one, passing the gobstopper slowly back and forth between your lips. By the time you reach the creamy center, you’ll be pressing the flesh with ferocity and vigor. Any other foods you recommend for those who need a lover’s fire? Email me. Sincerely, THE SCHMOOZ

By Bustamante I’m in the unique position of being an expert in both politics and the arts. Two subjects that rarely spend time together… but when they do, the results are nothing less than disastrous. Richard Nixon on Laugh-In. Bill Clinton on Arsenio Hall. 1980-1988 Now, they’re at it again. This time it’s Fred Thompson! This hoity-toity movie star thinks he’s gonna be the next president. What’s more troubling is that people are haven’t learned from mixing these two dangerous chemicals and are supporting this guy. Never mind the years Thompson spent as a lobbyist, one look at the film work of this man will tell you everything you need to know about Senator Fred Dalton Thompson. There’s a difference between being an up and coming actor and being a lobbyist turned movie star. Whereas the kid from Kansas will take any role they can to escape their rent-controlled studio apartment off Hollywood Blvd., Thompson was a millionaire who could pick and choose the roles and projects he worked on. A look at some of his choices is outright frightening and tells you all you need to know about the man. - Cape Fear – Max Cady was a sociopath bent on getting revenge on his lawyer, whom Cady felt did an inadequate job. Upon release from prison, Cady embarks on a terror spree against the lawyer and leaves a trail of rape, violence, torture, and murder in his wake. Thompson’s Role: A man in law enforcement who claims to be unable to help. What it says about Thompson: He’s weak on crime, and your family won’t be safe when rapists seek revenge on you! - Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee – A film that chronicles a low point in American history: the post Civil War displacement of Native Americans. Thompson’s Role: President Ulysses S. Grant What is says about Thompson: He willingly chose to portray the most corrupt President in US history. Grant epitomized corruption and embraced cronyism well before in became en vogue in the 2000. Perhaps this was a cunning foreshadowing, or just the work of a connected blatant braggart? Either way, I can picture Thompson sitting high atop his mansion in the Hollywood hills laughing at us peons. The good news is that since it was an original programming on HBO that didn’t have mobster characters in it, nobody watched it. - Necessary Roughness – NCAA sanctions force the Texas Sate Fightin’ Armadillos to put together a football team from the actual student body. This was a story with a true populist undertone. The people rise up and prove that ordinary men can achieve extraordinary results. An allegory for WWII if ever I saw one. Thompson’s Role: The Coach who leads them to victory? Nope. The inspirational leader of the team? Nope. That was Scott Bakula (a true American). The university president who demands results now? You got it! Another “president” role for Thompson… sorta like how GW Bush was “president” of a Texas baseball team. Are the similarities scaring you yet? They should! What does it say about Thompson: He’s a power hungry madman who cares more about “program sponsors” than he does about the common man. This is evidence that a Thompson administration will be rife with corporate handouts and corporate tax breaks on the back of the working man. - Baby’s Day Out - Insert plot for worst movie of all-time (Including Crash and Gladiator) Thompson’s Role: Who cares?! He chose to be in this film, and earned a paycheck as a bonus. What does it say about Thompson: What doesn’t it say about him? This shows an obvious lack of decision making ability when tempted by money. The film is about a baby loose in the city trying to escape kidnappers. Fred Thompson is pro-crime! How can we trust a man to lead our country when he chose to be in such a lousy film? We can’t, I say. Not in these times we live in. - Bustamante is the current Tennis instructor at a swanky Newport Beach, Ca. country club/yacht club. Not much is known about Bustamante except that he taught junior high math for a period of time in the 80’s, and that he’s pretty phenomenal with a hackysack. He was good enough to go pro, but corporate sponsorship just wasn’t there for the sport to get off the ground in the mid 70’s.

By Linus The Angry Mime Hey. Part of being able to negotiate properly with people is to have an acute understanding of what will terrify them. Take my former landlord, for instance. The dick had this strange fear of being thrown off a four-story building. What a nut, huh? But once I helped him embrace his fears head first, he was able to make his peace with the world. Plus, I didn’t have to pay any back rent. Here’s a few of some pretty-out there phobias I’ve come across, and how I used them to influence people. 1)Pyrophobia - It’s the fear of fires. I had a guy once who saw his parents chewed up in a fire with this condition. He was an evil, vicious man, but you flicked a lighter in his face, and he’d start crying. So I tied him to a pillar, made him watch Backdraft a few times, and then doused him in that alcohol fancy waiters use to make food ignite. Once I lit the match, he was pretty open into giving me what I wanted. 2)Osmophobia - Guess what this one is? It’s the fear of smells. Yeah, smells. If you ever find somebody in this state, this is what you do: Chloroform, garbage bag, trunk of your car. Then, you wrap duct tape around their legs, hands, eyes, and ears. Dump them inside a Bed, Bath and Beyond store. When they wake up, the screams will be delicious. That place smells like a ninety-five year old hooker trying to mask the scent of her decay as it is – imagine how it must be for some pool soul with osmophobia. 3)Coulrophobia - This one pisses me off. People shouldn’t be afraid of goddamned clowns. That’s like being afraid of the people who used to give you flowers at the airport. Trust me, clowns have the same level of skill and malevolence as these jerks. What people should really fear are mimes. A mime will only smile at the sight of blood. But I digress. If you’ve got someone who needs to be taught a lesson with this fear, just take them to a neighborhood bar that’s near a circus. Those punks never travel alone, and watching them vomit and scream their way through an evening will be sure to make your victims hairs turn white in no time. Plus, once you’ve had your fun, kick those clowns asses for me, okay? Okay. 4) Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia - Long name, silly fear. Any ideas what this fear is? It’s being afraid of the number 666. Whoopty doo. If somebody’s afraid of a number, my standard advice is a pick up a brick and bring it down on them until there’s no more white left on the brick, but let’s imagine that your victim’s got some strength. You can do this: Grab a bible, a couple of fresh lemons, and a toothpick. With the toothpick and the lemons, write the number “666” repeatedly on the bible. Let it dry for a few hours. Then, get your mark to come over when you’re in the middle of some ironing. About five minutes into your work, ask him to hand you your bible. Slip it under the clothes and continue to iron. At this point, he’s watching you like a hawk. Iron for about fifteen more seconds. By then, the lemon juice will dry and look like dried blood on the page. When you lift the iron and the clothes, they’ll be sure to faint! Any more bizarre fears you’ve got? Email me. - Linus is a world renowned mime artist whose productions “She Walks with Ghosts”, and “Sleep” have won him several international awards, such as the Deburau Prize He also served fifteen years in Oregon State Penitentiary for grand larceny. He trained in Paris at the International School of Corporeal Mime and will beat up anyone who has a problem with it. LINUS

by Vans McCoy (with help from Tonto and Friends staff) OK, I've had enough of this crap. Is a new idea so f'n difficult to come up with? I'm sick and tired of seeing and hearing about so-called new movies that are taking up space. Remake after remake after remake only to be followed by pointless sequel after sequel after sequel. Is a Will Smith helmed version of The Karate Kid really necessary? Do we absolutely need a Legally Blond trilogy?! Fast and the Furious 4?! Are you shitting me? So, here's the plan? We've come with 109 movie titles that haven't been made. Pick your favorite and come up with the following three things: 1. Film Genre - Western, Noir, Detective, Documentary, etc. (Porno doesn't count) 2. Lead actor or actress - Bonus points for selecting a director or a great character name. 3. Tagline - This is a one sentence (ok, we'll give you up to three, but it better be worth it!) description of story. Don't forget to write what title you're choosing. Let's see if we can get them all. Leave your entries HERE Be creative and let's prove that it's not impossible to come up with a new idea that's enjoyable. Please restore my faith in human creativity and ingenuity that has served us so well for so long... Here you go! German Love Machine Monsoon Season of Guilt Verb Michael Bay’s Postmaster General The Egyptian Movie of Death The Man Who Drank Too Much Patron Manic on a Mission Botanicals - The Musical Platinum Fashionista Mars Blew Up Yesterday The Bailiff From Missouri Wireless Cellphone Uplifting Oranges Kiddie Fiddler Southwest Sales Team Death at a Petting Zoo The Hoss Berger Story Come In. Sit Down. Relax. Die. Security Devise Disabled Frosted September Mix Tape From Detroit Gyromite The Movie 3 Hold Punched Never Trust The Middle Child The Trial of Martin Van Buren Amendment III Los Banos de Cuba Venti Drip… Room for Cream “Oh, That Was Your Spleen?” LOLWTFOMG!!11!!!One!!1 Solid Brass Fastener When the Sky turned Purple Sync Mixer The Art of Johnny Du Plenty Brothel Canadian Smarty Patterson Jones: Game Show Champion from Modesto The Magical Photo Booth What, In Tarnations?! 6th Grade Biology The World’s Fastest Chinese Juggler Driver’s School cAPS lOCK Demon Nun Nine Ball Mikey Execution Day Live! Modern Vintage Irony Chess Battalion Crash, Bang, Get Out of My God Damn Way Siamese Banjo Duel Green Greeting Carded Turquoise Mechanical Pencil Walking Papers One Amazing Hummer Backgammon Fighter Wide Ruled Notebook Zen Master Milton Reserved For Apartment #9 Pillow Fight Nobody Eats Snails The Wooden Nickel Achoo! Excuse me, Is That Garlic? Fuck The Miners - We Need Gold Chuck Norris In Love Sucking off the Amish There's A Porsche In My Pants! What The Maggots Ate Tycho Brae and The Metal Nose I Gotta Love Me Some Triplets Tom Clancy’s – Anemic Cell Sickular Got Penicillin? Stomach Cancer: A Musical Calculus Whores Clever Heading: The Adventure of Silly Name, Wacky Occupation Suspicious Sperm I Bought A Wife On Ebay The Innocent Bartender Santa Claus Hates You, Bernie Epstein Awe-Fu@&!^$-Sum John Waters’ Dull Scissors Fantasy Football Murder Turdburglar The Shepherd from Berlin When Gravity Fails S.A.S.E. Serrated Popsicle Stick The Insatiables My Place or Oars?: A Rowing Romance Fear As Prey Rupert Sivla, Mixed Martial Artiste Little Did We Know Define Me Slowly Hamlet 9: A Baseball Tragedy Cafeteria Sherriff God Needs a Starship: The Lawrence Luckinbill Story My Chimp’s Cuter Than Your Chimp Mediocre Momma: A Teachers Story Broad Band-Slapstick Rock n Roll Grandpa’s Lost Again My Gun, Your Bullets, Our Kill White or Wheat? The History of Lunch The Scourge of Christmas Island Back Page Woman Ad The Further Tales of Samuel Prethers, Sweedish Ninja Off-season Blues: The 2007 Mets Season The 22nd Hole Giant Fish, Even Bigger Ocean The Ransom of Emily Hornswaggler Cracked Aces Click HERE to leave your entry. - Tonto and Friends is a collective of some of the top comedy writers and life bloggers on the planet. They come from all parts of the globe and various life experiences. Together, they bring a daily source of humor and useful life information.

by Stephany Ericson Most of us are quite adept at many things in our daily lives. We chew to perfection, are All-Stars at shoe tying, and a few of us even lie as well as any Esquire. The list does not end there, but I believe you understand my point: The things we do everyday, we excel at… except driving. In regards to driving, you suck. There is no argument, only these many examples of my ultimate truthiness in this matter. Make up your mind - Mascara and lipstick failed to make a pig attractive… what on Earth makes you think they can make YOU attractive? A pig un-knowingly sacrifices its life for the purpose of giving us tasty bacon and the eventual pickled feet. You, however nearly sacrifice MY life un-knowingly because you are “glossing” your lips while straddling 2 lanes. Just who are you attempting to look pretty for, your boss? I’m sure I’ve slept with your boss, or someone like him. Not worth the tie I stole from him. Why not go au natural with your face? Oh, that’s right… you left your pitiful amount of self-esteem back home in your box of Barbies… probably sold off in a Garage Sale by now. No matter... NO amount of make up will fix you. Now kindly apply some base to your brain, and occupy a singular lane. Tom Tom - Keith Moon and John Bonham could multitask. You however, cannot drum, nor drink as they could. Stop your incessant Paradiddle, cease the poorly executed, yet non-ending 9 stroke roll, finish the sloppy Flam taps on your steering wheel, and kindly drive your car. Do you think we see you and think, “oh my goodness, look - it’s a professional drummer in that car! He’s practicing even while driving, how dedicated!” No, we don’t. Do surgeons practice spreading ribs sur la handles de control? Does an Accountant calculate Interest at the helm? Negative, nay, and nope which rhymes with dope, which is what you are when you do your Peart impression on the rudder of your vehicle. Pls pt msngr dn  - I for one am so very thankful for satellite technology. It allows me to write from the comfort of my own home where I am never far from my medicine bottle, and then send my manuscripts off to a foreign land for publication. Technology can be a big help to us all. But it can also spell disaster on the road! Why you believe you can type horribly abbreviated English using only your thumbs WHILE driving next to me is unfthmble! Wud? If your messages are written with the same carelessness with which you drive you may be trying to say “I love you…see you soon,” but it will arrive at your lover's Blackberry: “I lost you..see your poon?” Dylm now? U mgt b syng myob, but I sy stfu&DRIVE. O! & U r ringl8 2? Y ne1 lts u lv? Cyr ma, cyr pa omg yr drvng is raw. Xoxo jk. Ass. Null set - In mathematical terminology, this refers to a set that contains nothing. Like the amount of honesty in my former lovers’ heart. Zero, zilch, nada. There should be a similar amount of Bumper in the set defined by “space between my car & your car.” Nothing should occupy this set… and yet you continue to add YOUR bumper to the set. Did we fail math in 7th grade? Are we getting back at the nerd who did your homework incorrectly on purpose? The closer you get to my rear bumper does NOT equal me going faster. It equals or rapidly approaches me slamming on my brakes and welcoming you to my back seat. I can get a new car in the snap of a finger. You won’t be able to snap your fingers as you spend the rest of your misappropriated days in an iron lung. Slow down, back off. Are you really in that much of a hurry to get to your crappy job? Go back home to the trailer and play Guitar Hero. Hillbilly. The sooner you stop your road txting, drumming, application of moot makeup, and tailgating, the sooner I get to Rite Aid and my happy tabs. I have a mind to start wearing a crash helmet and driving like a Pakistani if you don’t get the HELL OUT OF MY WAY. - Stephany Ericson is an award winning author of childrens books (“The Dutch Disappearance”, “Estate in Vision!”, and “Vespa’s on Parade”) Raised in Pacoima, Ohio by loving grandparents, educated in the Arab Emirates, and employed for 17 years by Art’s Pastry Shack she brings to her readers sugar coated, heart warming stories of redemption all wrapped in a non-traditional Burqua.