I bet you thought soap could never make anything dirty, but guess what, guys? It can. I was at a
Holiday Inn and I took lots of soap because it was all complimentary, and even though my hands were
already clean, I thought, hey, free soap. So I took about ten bars, and I tried to unload it onto my
friends, but they said No thank you very much, we have our own soap, we don't need any more. So
there I was, stuck with these ten bars of retarded, smelly soap. They stayed in my coat pocket for a
really long time, and since I had forgotten about them I didn't hesitate to engage in heavy-contact
activities such as falling down the stairs, juggling dynamite, and playing the Let's Take Hammers and
Hammer Our Pockets Just To See What Happens game. When I remembered, Oh wait, I had ten bars
of smelly soap in that pocket, the soap bars had broken into tiny little soap crumbs, generously coating
the inner lining of my pocket. How good! I thought. Now anything I put in my pocket will come out clean! So I put a lot of stuff in my coat pocket like my hand, a frog,
and a few pieces of expensive, highly-sensitive equipment. Except whatever I took out wasn't clean,
it was just covered in this retarded soap. What a nincompoop I used to be! So anyway, that pocket
had become off-limits for me. Anything I put in there got smothered and was rendered useless.
Except! . . . except for the frog. To my and Rocko's amazement, the frog can live under the harsh
conditions of my soap-diseased coat pocket. It subsists on tiny soap flakes! I wish I could do that!
So that's where the frog lives, in my pocket. And whenever I have trash, I drop it in the pocket to feed
the frog, and the little bastard eats it! He doesn't even ask or anything, he just up and eats the trash.
I bet you wish you had a frog like I do. Well if you ask me, I'll take him out and show him to you, he's
shy, but if you pay me five bucks I can take him out anyway. After all, it's just a retarded little frog.
Let's Face It, America; Dogs are Way Better than Bugs.
by Sean McBride
I think I speak for most of us when I say that I am sick and tired of the whining of all the bug-lovers
who trumpet the virtues of insects. They say bugs are cute and that we need them. But guess what,
Mary T. Meagher, bugs are NOT CUTE!!! They're ugly, and that's all they'll ever be, because they're
bugs!! Bugs are really ugly! Support me here, people! What do we need bugs for anyway? Gross
me out, Carlos. Let's get serious here. Dogs are infinitely better.
First of all, do bugs fetch? No! Maybe they'll buzz in your ear or sting the heck out of you, but you can't teach a bug to fetch. They're too ugly. Dogs, on the other hand, do whatever you tell
them to.
Secondly, dogs look good with fur. Furry insects are a major gross-out. Petting a furry spider
is definitely a very bad, very fatal thing to do. Despite what many exotic insects may have you believe,
fur has absolutely no place anywhere on the body of a bug! You know it, I know it, and the Mexican
people know it.
Thirdly and lastly, bugs don't last more than three or four seconds in a microwave. If a bug-
lover and a normal-person/dog-owner found themselves in a situation like that where they and their
favorite pet got stuck in a volcano or something for a little while, whose pet do you think would die
first? The bug, you ninny, the bug!! And while the bug flew around like a jerk for a couple seconds,
thinking only of its own ill buggily fortune, the dog would bravely sniff around for a nook through
which it and its owner could escape, thereby saving the day and racking up another victory for dogs
everywhere!
The choice is obvious: Dogs. I'd take a Rover or a Spot over a bug the size of a spot any day!
And please no smelly tarantulas! Those things shed all over the place! Bug-lovers everywhere: go eat
some worms!! And I don't care if worms are bugs or not! I said go eat some worms right now!
Going Monkey
by Sean McBride
Have you ever considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, the creatures we think of as
"monkeys" are really human midgets running around with a lot of extra hair? And that they just
pretend to be stupid? And that their favorite food, "bananas" are really growth-stunting, fur-inducing
crazyfruits that they eat to retain their monkey-like facade, and that if you eat too many bananas, you'll
turn into a monkey too?! Well I'm not making any accusations here, but let's just say that those little
buggers had better be careful from here on out, because we're on to them, darn it! and no monkey is
gonna make a monkey out of me! Now I hate bananas!!
A Time for Forgiveness
by Sean McBride
They've been gone long enough, and think they've learned a good, hard lesson by now, which is why
I firmly believe that we should let the dinosaurs back into Pennsylvania. I mean, let's have a little
compassion here. There haven't been any dinosaurs in this, the Keystone state, for well over
seventeen years, at least that the border patrol knows about. And what do all of our license plates say?
That's right, they say, "You've got a friend in Pennsylvania." And if we were any kind of honorable
Pennsylvanians, we would stick to that motto, even for the dinosaurs. I know the stegosaurus could
get a little wound up at times, and sure, the tyrannosaurus rex would wreak a little havoc every now
and then, but deep down they're good-hearted thunder lizards, they really are. And what about those
sweet little herbivores? Well they may not be "little," but they're definitely very cute, especially in the
way they lovingly trod upon the local wildlife and tenderly tear up hundreds of essential shrubberies
and roots and swallow them in huge gulps that would give competition to even the rain-forest
demolishers that everyone is aware of but never does anything about. Yes sir, dinosaurs are actually
rather benevolent creatures, creatures we should bless with our company and guidance! Open your
hearts once again to the dinosaurs and let by-gones be by-gones. Do what you know is right. Let's
let the dinosaurs back into Pennsylvania.
As editor and only contributor to this modest publication, I, Sean, strive to purport no iota of sense
or comprehensible logic to my nonexistant yet loyal readers. Just kidding you cupcake brain,
pass the bagel chips.
The Sean Newsletter
