Archive for the ‘Hobo Jungle’ Category

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on January 27, 2011 at 7:58 pm

Infallible advice from the Vatican’s very own love doctor!

Dear Pope,

My wife just told me that she likes it “rough”.  What do I do?


Pat in Pittsburgh

My dearest Pat,

The primary purpose of human sexuality is for procreation.  So long as your wife remains committed to this ideal, variability within one’s sex life is permissible by Church doctrine.  Bear in mind, however, that many of the “sex toys” available today place pleasure ahead of procreative purpose, which is not to be abided.  As the secondary purpose of human sexuality is to strengthen the sacred bonds of marriage, I recommend that you discuss with your wife what each of you might prefer, and how those preferences might fit into God’s plan.  Off the top of my head, I can also recommend a game by the name of “Spanish Inquisition.” From what I hear, nothing gets the ladies revved up for a night of sacred physical intimacy like role-playing Galileo before the Heretics’ Council!

Yours in the Eucharist,

His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

Hump Day Strip Tease

In Hobo Jungle on January 26, 2011 at 3:33 pm

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on January 25, 2011 at 1:26 am

Random Thought: Obesity.

Mexico is the fattest country in the world. Yes! Take that you fuckers that talk shit all the time about the United States of America, the nation which saved the Pacific Ocean and all of its islands, Britain, Africa, Italy, Asia, the Moon, pretty much Australia, Antarctica, and France, twice, from douchists in less than three years.

Think about that. Forget about Obama or a George Bush. Now think about it again.

I am still proud to be an American. And I still love McDonald’s!

The Tip-Off

In Hobo Jungle on January 10, 2011 at 3:57 pm

We tell you what’s worth celebrating in the week ahead: hobo-style.


On this date in 49 BCE, Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon, starting a Roman civil war and giving rise to the phrase “crossing the Rubicon.”  Hey!  Now you know where that phrase actually came from!  Celebrate by explaining this story to all your friends in a pedantic and obnoxious manner.  When it comes to being a smartass, you’ve really crossed the Rubicon.


Today marks a Japanese holiday known as Kagami Biraki, or “Breaking of the Mochi.”  Traditionally it is celebrated by breaking some mochi, but Wikipedia tells me that opening a cask of sake at a party will also work in a pinch.  Get thee to a sushi bar and drink yourself some sake!  Even if you don’t open the cask of it, somebody did somewhere, and now you get to party.


Man, remember how back in the sixties, everybody thought we’d have flying cars by now?  And their faith in technological modernity led to some ridiculous shit, like people freezing themselves so they could be reanimated someday?  Yeah, the first dude who ever pulled that stunt did it today, on Bedford Day, named in honor of some hopeful idiot named James Bedford!  Celebrate your own version of Bedford Day by freezing something that was once alive.  (Not a person.  Maybe, like, a tomato.)  Then try to thaw it out and bring it back to life!  (Or at least try to make it taste like a real tomato again.)  NOW YOU KNOW WHAT POWER SCIENCE HOLDS.


On this date in 2002, Ernest Hemingway’s former first mate, Gregorio Fuentes, died at the ripe old age of 104.  Although he was the basis for “The Old Man and the Sea,” apparently he never read the book, because he preferred smoking cigars.  Grab a stogie and a Cuba Libre and ignore yourself some classics of modern literature, because goddamnit, you are going FISHING today!  Or you could just eat some sea bass or something.


Hey!  It’s Dave Grohl’s birthday!  DAVE GROHL IS AWESOME. Seriously.  He played Satan in the Tenacious D movie.  (Suck on that, Courtney Love!)  Listen to a bunch of Foo Fighters and pop some Mentos, because today is a day to rock.

Footos: The Freshfighter!


It’s Korean Alphabet Day!  What?  Stop making up holidays, Kim Jong Il.  Much better to commemorate the 1889 incorporation of the Coca-Cola Company, because where would America (and the city of Atlanta) be without its sugary brown sludge?  NOWHERE GOOD, that’s what I say!


Ayn Rand wrote a play called “The Night of January 16th.”  Punch anybody who reads Ayn Rand in the face. Then do it again.

Mad Madame Xenia’s Hometruth Horoscopes

In Hobo Jungle on January 7, 2011 at 2:34 pm

Once a month, our very own Mad Madame Xenia looks deep into the future and tells you sad sacks what’s what. Just like that lady on TV with the fake Jamaican accent, but with more bitterness and gin.


December 22 – January 19

It’s All about You!

You’re nothing but a disappointment to me and your Father. Why can’t you be more like your brother, Cancer? Is this how the universe raised you to be?


We understand your need to get where you’re going, and to be recognized for having gotten there. Too bad no one is ever watching. They all have their eyes on the incontinent Libra, or sneaky, sexy Scorpio. You?

Well, who gives a shit about you?

No one.

(It took me forever to even find enough about you to write this chart.)

You are a follower among men. Life has much to offer Capricorn except happiness, respect, satisfaction, admiration, friendship, house guests, and living pets. Many of your lovers end up in counseling.

I can’t go on. I should. I know I have your undivided attention.

But I don’t like you, so . . . there’s that.

It’s in the Stars.

You’ll be surprised by how little the stars have to say about you.

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on January 6, 2011 at 4:19 pm

Infallible advice from the Vatican’s very own love doctor!

Dear Pope,

I am a devout Catholic and so am waiting until marriage.  As I always tell my boyfriend, it’s important to express AFFECTION, not AROUSAL!  (I learned that in the ninth grade.  The woman who spoke to us also said that if we’d already lost our purity we could “rewrap the gift”, which was cool, because my gift had been unwrapped a whole bunch of times already, but then it was like, BAM, I’m a virgin again!  Awesome!)  Anyway, my boyfriend and I have been talking about how we’re going to deal with sex after marriage, because I just want to have babies and babies and he keeps telling me that he is unemployed and I am still in community college and we CANNOT AFFORD THAT MANY BABIES.  But I know birth control is not okay, so it’s either babies or no fun for him!

Anyway, the other day he came up with this news article about how you said it was okay for guys to wear condoms now.  I was pretty shocked but then I read the article and it said you said it was only okay for guys to wear condoms now if they were male prostitutes with AIDS.

So here’s my question, Pope: do you think my boyfriend is a male prostitute with AIDS?!?!?!  If you think he is, then I will try to find somebody else to marry.


Gina G. in Australia

My dearest Gina G.,


I do not think your boyfriend is a male prostitute with AIDS.


However, you should probably try to find somebody else to marry anyway.


Yours in the Eucharist,

His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

Hump Day Strip Tease

In Hobo Jungle on January 5, 2011 at 6:07 pm

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on January 4, 2011 at 4:53 pm

Random Thought: Grass

If I was, or were, to say, “Bermuda grass does not actually grow in Bermuda,” then would you want to know some more little somethings about grass? Keep reading.

Let’s just say you just happen to be curious about what type of grass would be a good fit in your backyard, perhaps to go around your deck or your pool. In this case, you’d be in luck. I know everything there is to know about grass. Let’s say you live in California. Let’s say you like to play on your deck or in your pool, but you would rather play in some grass or on a lawn. Your deck is air-conditioned, your pool is heated, or, let’s just say, the edge of your deck is two feet tall or your pool is six feet deep. Who the fuck cares? Go with Bermuda.

The best grass in the world is found in California, on Haight and Belvedere in San Francisco. This rare strand of grass is called “The Chronic.” There are only a few people who know the secrets of how to grow it. They are known as the Grassmasters. It is said that every day during the growth cycle of a lawn of “The Chronic,” the Grassmasters apply lotion to their hands to get them soft and smooth the way a barber’s hands should be, and then by hand they trim each piece of grass. It’s also for sale on Haight Street. In fact in that general area you can buy “The Chronic” at a reasonable price. All you have to do is just snap your finger and your thumb together or just flick your wrist and give a little wave at Herb or Bud, or Roach, or whoever else is there. Then you’re set.

There are only two types of grass: the Bermuda, a bright-green strand, which, unlike a blade of grass, grows into a nail that will poke the shit out of people, dogs and cats; and “The Chronic,” which has a stanky-stank-stank and goes great with milk and cookies or pie with no crust.

The Tip-Off

In Hobo Jungle on January 3, 2011 at 2:41 pm

We tell you what’s worth celebrating in the week ahead- hobo-style.


OMG YOU GUYS IT’S THE PERIHELION!!!!!!!  WTF is the Perihelion, you wonder?  Apparently, it is the point in the year when the Earth is closest to the sun.  Some nerds probably spent a lot of time figuring that shit out.  Stupid astronomers, with their telescopes and their “math”.  Celebrate by getting really close to a large sphere of life-giving flame, and making fun of astronomers!


On this day in 1865, the New York Stock Exchange opened its first permanent headquarters near Wall Street.  Wall Street, eh?  Those guys are douches.  Punch a banker in the face!


Commemorate the birth of former CIA Director George Tenet by outing a secret agent of your very own!  Forget about national security — that Plame bitch deserved it.  If that’s not snazzy enough for you, how about this zinger: on this date in 1675, the French Army beat “Brandenburg.”  I don’t know who or what Brandenburg is, but hot damn, they got beaten by the French. Eat a croissant and feel smug, you beret-loving pussy!


Waaaay back in 1929, Mother Teresa rolled into Calcutta on this date to start working with India’s poor and sick.  Do something charitable with your useless self.  Or just make fun of nuns.  You’re probably going to hell already anyway.


So, in 1973, some nutjob at a HoJo’s in New Orleans went batshit and shot a bunch of people.  Some of them died.  This is sad.  Maybe we can all make it right by staying in a shitty motel and not killing anybody!  No jacking off without cleaning it up, either.


Celebrate the 1817 birth of South African statesman Theophilus Shepstone by wearing a monocle and giving everything within your purview a laughably ridiculous British name.  Or you could celebrate David Bowie’s birthday by dressing yourself in drag and giving everything within your purview a laughably ridiculous space-age name!  It’s your day, Ziggy Stardust, so grab it by the androgynous, indeterminate genitalia.


On this date in 1768, some hustler named Philip Astley staged the first “modern circus” in London.  Stage a modern circus of your own!  Elephants, clown cars, lions jumping through flaming hoops — who can’t pull that shit off?  Alternately, you can just spend the entire day referring to your own life as a “modern circus,” because chances are it probably is.

Happy Hobo Holidays!

In Hobo Jungle on December 24, 2010 at 11:09 am

The Jungle will resume regular posting on January 3rd, with more from Madame Xenia, JHM, and everybody’s favorite Pope.  Until then, here’s hoping that all of our readership is sitting down to a merry short stack with loved ones.

Mad Madame Xenia’s Hometruth Horoscopes

In Hobo Jungle on December 7, 2010 at 11:38 am

Once a month, our very own Mad Madame Xenia looks deep into the future and tells you sad sacks what’s what.  Just like that lady on TV with the fake Jamaican accent, but with more bitterness and gin.


November 23 – December 21

It’s All about You

Happy Belated Birthday, sweetie! I would have written sooner but you don’t make it too easy for Mdme, hmm? Always running this way and that. . . .  No time for anyone but yourself. Quite frankly, I had no idea where you were.

I sound like your wife, don’t I?

No harm meant. (Isn’t that how you put it after you made the waitress cry? “No harm meant?” You just thought she’d feel better if she lost some weight. I understand.)

That lust for freedom and thirst for change – it’s all part of your transient appeal. Apologies! I don’t know what’s gotten in to me tonight. I guess I’m just direct. Hmm?

But back to you! You are a sign that’s in and of the moment, living for the present, no thought of the future. We’d be jealous if y’all weren’t such a wreck. The energy and enthusiasm you bring to life spells hard core drug abuse and sexual mischief. (No wonder you’re the most positive sign in the zodiac!)

Oh, don’t worry. I won’t tell.

It’s in the Stars

I won’t tell because they already know. Look for an intervention mid month.

Unless she leaves you first, in which case you’d have that night free.

A spontaneous road trip will end.

Karma is coming, and she is pissed.

Hump Day Strip Tease

In Hobo Jungle on December 1, 2010 at 11:33 pm

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on November 30, 2010 at 8:33 pm

Do you have a question? Well just ask McCormick! Simply write your question in the comment box below, then come back for an answer next week, kay? Kay.

Gertrude Y. asks: “Who is the best role model for my 12-year-old son?”

Bob Ross. He’s a poet. And I quote:

“Look at all the beautiful things to happen there.”

“Just put as many layers and clouds in your world as you want.”

And to see Bob Ross at his best click here:

Badger Talipack asks: “If North Korea started a war and George Bush was still President of the United States, then would he invade Portugal or Alaska?”Alaska. It’s got a shit-load of oil under it, plus Palin’s an ally so he’s already got a sleeper in charge and on top of it.

The Tip-Off

In Hobo Jungle on November 29, 2010 at 10:35 am

We tell you what’s worth celebrating in the week ahead… hobo-style.


On this date in 1922, archeologist and proto-Indiana Jones Howard Carter opened the tomb of King Tut to the public.  Nearly a centuries’ worth of Egyptian curses ensued.  Celebrate with a little grave desecration of your own!  If relevant laws, a sense of general ethics, or fear of having the shit haunted out of you prohibit you from disturbing the dead, commemorate the first broadcast football game in 1934 — in which the Chicago Bears defeated the Detroit Lions — with a round of America’s new national pastime: making fun of Detroit.


In the year 1700, a Swedish army of 7,500 defeated a much larger Russian army on this date in Narva (wherever the fuck that is).  Go to IKEA, or just punch a Russkie.  Alternately, recall that a mere six years ago today, Jeopardy! champion Ken Jennings finally lost his winning streak. Punch a nerd.


The year was 1960.  The place was Hamburg, Germany.  The suspects were two young musicians: Paul McCartney and Pete Best.  The crime?  ARSON!  Remember the youthful discretions of these musical luminaries by jammin’ to some classic tracks from each of them.  (I hear Pete Best is available on iTunes now!)  If that’s not quite your speed, celebrate Woody Allen’s birthday by being an insufferable neurotic.


It’s Harry Reid’s birthday!  Honor him by boring the crap out of the American electorate.  Or, go on a coke-fueled, head-shaving, child-endangering bender to celebrate Britney Spears’s twenty-ninth.  Only one more year before Brit-Brit hits the big three-oh, y’all!


On this date in 1818, Illinois became the 21st US state.  Celebrate by chowing a Chicago-style deep-dish pizza, downing a Chicago-style hot dog, and suffering a Chicago-style heart attack.  Conveniently enough, today also marks the anniversary of the first successful human heart transplant, so it’s a perfect occasion for a massive coronary event!


Commemorate the first Burger King opening in Miami in 1954 by dressing up as a freakish wooden monarch and incite the neighborhood children to throw Whoppers at passers-by.  If you lack the requisite carpentry skills to fashion yourself a convincingly creepy mannequin, mourn the breakup of Condoleeza Rice’s favorite band, Led Zeppelin, by listening to “Stairway to Heaven” until you pass out and your roommate strangles you in your sleep.


Today is an international holiday known as the Day of the Ninja.  I THINK YOU ALL KNOW WHAT TO DO.

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on November 24, 2010 at 10:36 am

Random Thought: Levitation


Before you can understand levitation, you must learn how to meditate. Lucky for you I have the instructions.


Now I begin with lighting some candles. Esque Terracotta candles with the “Mysteria” fragrance from Bed, Bath and Beyond work the best. I light three of them, one for each of my legs. Then I have eight deep breaths: the ins through the mouth and outs through the nostrils. I make sure to concentrate on the insides of my nostrils to regulate the release of the marijuana smoke. Then I turn on some Rick James. With “Super Freak” at full blast, I do the robot for three minutes and twenty-four seconds. Next I pour a highball and slurp the first two sips, then I slug down the rest of it. Now at this point the candles should be going pretty good, so what youdo here is you figure out which one’s wick is burning the best, the brightest, then blow out the other two. Then you need to sit down and cross your legs and think of a nothingness. What I usually think of is outer-space but without any stars or planets or anything else.
After that you should be ready.


Pretty soon you’ll feel like you’re about to pass out. Let it happen. You can only witness your own consciousness while you’re passing out. The tick to it is to make sure you stay conscious, stay focused the entire time. Don’t forget that you’re thinking of a nothingness.


Then, as you pass out, you should see a white light. Now here you have to hurry up and be agile and make sure you don’t lose it, the white light. It should still be in but not on your mind. Beyond that white light is your consciousness. If you pass out the right way, completely focused on the white light, then instead of losing consciousness you will end up gaining it. It’s more like “passing in” than “passing out.”


And that’s it, a piece of cake. If you’ve done everything the way I told you to do it, then by now you’re levitating.

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on November 11, 2010 at 2:13 pm

Infallible advice from the Vatican’s very own love doctor!

Dear Pope,

YO!  You got mad game with those hats, B-dawg.  Can I borrow one sometimes?  Not for the ladies but then I can be all, “shit, Matt Lauer, CHECK THIS, I am wearing a hat from the motherfucking POPE!”  And Matt Lauer will be like, damn, I FORGOT THAT KANYE WEST IS THE SHIT.  HE IS LIKE THE POPE OF HIP-HOP.  Cuz when it comes to droppin’ beats I am INFALLIBLE yo!  Also, I can put you in my next video.  You can grind on some fineass nun or some shit, right?  Come on, we each got mad kingdom and power and glory, let’s make some shit HAPPEN for REAL!

Peace out,


My dearest KANYE,

I have long observed the hip-hop tradition of carrying chalices based on the Roman Catholic Eucharist, and hoped that, if only the musical tradition could admit Christ, there might be some room for dialog.  Imagine my joy when I first heard the strains of your seminal classic “Jesus Walks” — your rhymes were the finest in Christendom that day, a true modern hymn.

Alas, I cannot simply loan out my hats and mitres — strict Vatican rules, I’m afraid — but I am interested in further collaboration, and not merely for the sake of “fineass nuns.”  You have the gentleness and humility of a genuine leader of the Church.  I will put my people in contact with your people, and together, we will make Matt Lauer weep for his very soul.

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

Hump Day Strip Tease

In Hobo Jungle on November 10, 2010 at 10:07 am

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on November 9, 2010 at 9:45 am

Random Thought: Air Jaws

Spring is time for you to get ready, to get pumped up for the third week of August: SHARK WEEK BABY!!!

With an underwater swim speed of light and a lunging ability of 7,000 feet, the Air Jaws creates a serious problem for objects in, on or over water. They go for anything. Anything. That includes everything, such as seagulls, flying seals, airplanes, helicopters, hot air balloons, hover boards (the Pit bull model, of course), UFOs, clouds, you, me, Peter Pan, etcetera. Don’t fuck around.

Air Jawsesi are usually found off the coast South Africa but are often seen everywhere where there’s water, which of course includes the Pacific Ocean, Half Moon and the San Francisco Bays, Lake Tahoe, Ponds, Pools, Bathtubs, Aquafina bottles and mouths. Water — any water — isn’t safe. None.

“Air Jaws is the real deal. If you ever see one within 7,000 feet of your location, then you might as well say your prayers and kiss your ass good-bye because it’s already too late and you will soon be munched,” says God.

Mad Madame Xenia’s Hometruth Horoscopes

In Hobo Jungle on October 28, 2010 at 9:27 am

Once a month, our very own Mad Madame Xenia looks deep into the future and tells you sad sacks what’s what.  Just like that lady on TV with the fake Jamaican accent, but with more bitterness and gin.


October 23-November 22

It’s All About You
Dear Scorpio:
I’ve been watching you, trying to figure things out. I like to guess what’s going on behind those deep, dark, dead eyes of yours. Jealousy, yes. Animosity, oh yah. Lust? Well, what do you think brings me here?
You always take it a little HBO- but with fewer partners and way more drama. No profile on fiery Scorpio is complete without an in-depth analysis of sex, so I took a look at the sex you’ve been having, and well, I’m afraid I can’t share my findings. This is a family magazine.

It’s not?

Well, I’m afraid I must insist on silence, except to clarify that “safe sex” means condoms, not seatbelts, not tasers. Please make a note. In the meantime, Madame recommends Cefixime 400 mg.

It’s in the Stars

Sex in a confessional is something you’ll need to confess. Stick around.
Make a date with the health department, and keep it.
Gemini wants to know what you’re doing later.

Hump Day Strip Tease

In Hobo Jungle on October 27, 2010 at 6:28 pm

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on October 26, 2010 at 10:41 am

Infallible advice from the Vatican’s very own love doctor!

Dear Pope,

Sometimes it burns when I pee.  Should I tell my girlfriend?

-J.D. in PA

My dear J.D.,

The burning sensation you are now experiencing is but a small taste of the fiery damnation that awaits you in the afterlife if you do not give up your current profligacy.  Premarital sex is a shame in the eyes of God; a mortal sin.  If your proclivities damage your ability to procreate, what then will your sexual purpose be??  Think hard on these matters.  Pray, and pray the rosary.  Tell your girlfriend you will no longer do her the spiritual harm of sinful copulation.  This, plus a heavy load of doctor-prescribed medication, shall cleanse and cure you and bathe you in the light of Christ.

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on October 20, 2010 at 2:00 am

Infallible advice from the Vatican’s very own love doctor!

Dear Pope:

Friday is my husband and my first wedding anniversary, and I want to make the night REALLY special. What do you recommend to set the mood?


Ashley in Nashville

Dear Ashley in Nashville,

Gregorian chant and the rhythm method.  Anything else is just unseemly.

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on October 19, 2010 at 1:18 am

Random Thought: Interrogating God

I am sitting on the couch, chatting it up with God.

JHM: Have you ever snorted cocaine?

GOD: What the hell? No.

JHM: What is the meaning of life?

GOD: A twenty sack. Just kidding. Life is what you make of it. It is funny that people wonder about this kind of stuff. They always wonder about the meaning of life as something in the future, but never in the past. Life’s meaning is the same as its definition. Life’s definition is what defines you, and what defines you is your past, your experiences. It’s simple, really.

JHM: Word. Real talk, God. So. I assume you’ve played hide the salami at least once or twice. Will you tell us a story about it?

GOD: I dated this one little angel for a while. Boy, she was a real gem. Her name was Naomi. She wanted something serious and I could have given that to her, but I didn’t. I gave her The Almighty Dick instead. You know?

JHM: No.

God: See, because I am the only omnipotent being, there is nothing else that can really hang with Me.

JHM: Oh, I get it. You’ve got a knee-knocker. Figures.

GOD: Well, yes. But no, not because of That. Think of it this way, My Town is just too big for anyone else but Me.

JHM: Oh. What?

The Tip-Off

In Hobo Jungle on October 17, 2010 at 7:22 pm

We tell you what’s worth celebrating in the week ahead-  hobo-style.


On this day in 1814, a huge vat containing over 135,000 gallons of beer exploded at the Meux and Company Brewery in London, creating what is now referred to as the “London Beer Flood.”  Nine people died, but you can still party by flooding your own internal organs with beer and hoping that no similar casualties ensue.  Once properly soused, celebrate the 1938 birth of daredevil Evel Knievel by jumping your motorcycle — or, should you lack a hog, a motorcycle you have stolen from a random passerby — over eight school buses. Trust me: this is a great idea!


Today is Alaska Day, commemorating the day in 1867 in which the US took possession of Alaska from Russia.  Thirty-one years later, the US took possession of Puerto Rico on this date.  Go find an obscure land mass and claim it as your own.  With a steady diet of regular federal tax subsidies, it should take only one-hundred-forty-one years to grow your very own Sarah Palin!


Today is Constitution Day for the South Pacific Island nation of Niue, which is a country I am going to guess you have never heard of before.  In 2003, the Internet tells me that Niue became the first “WiFi nation” in which free wireless access is provided nationwide.  OMG YOU GUYS LET’S ALL MOVE TO NIUE!!!!!  Barring that, celebrate this great nation by wasting your entire day on the Interwebs.


Today is Snoop Dogg’s birthday.  Puff, puff, pass, all day long.


In the great nations of Mexico and the United States, today is — I shit you not — International Day of the Nacho.  Get thyself to a taqueria and honor this holiday in appropriate form!  If you’re on the other side of the pond, you can consume some lame-ass fruit instead, because today is Apple Day in the United Kingdom.  Apple Day. You know what’s way more awesome than apples?  NACHOS!  Suck it, limeys!


On this date in 1746, Princeton University received its charter.  Celebrate by acting like you are better than everyone else you know.  Alternately, put your innate arrogance to the service of commemorating the 1924 founding of Toastmasters International by giving pompous speeches to anyone you meet.  If you’d prefer something a little lower-key, how about heading to Canada and purchasing massive quantities of Red Dye No. 4 to chug at your leisure?  The US banned it on this date in 1974 for causing bladder tumors in dogs, but those crazy Canucks like to live on the EDGE.


October 23, 1958 marked the international debut of the Smurfs.  Get stoned and spend the day watching those crazy blue kids.  Bonus points if you do it on an iPod, the first version of which Apple released on this date in 2001.  If you are super-hip, you can take this opportunity to party down for Mole Day.  If you don’t know what that is, I am not going to explain it to you, because you are not even worth my time.

Hump Day Strip Tease

In Hobo Jungle on October 14, 2010 at 8:14 am

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on October 12, 2010 at 7:45 am

Infallible advice from the Vatican’s very own love doctor!

Dear Pope,

It has been too long.  I know you are a busy man, but I am also a busy man.  And now you have your Christmas coming up to keep us apart even longer.

In your reply to my last letter, you spoke of your love for borscht.  Here is a borscht recipe to tantalize you into visiting Moscow:

  • 1 pound cubed beef stew meat
  • 1 marrow bone or meaty beef bone
  • 1 medium clove garlic, peeled
  • 1 medium carrot, peeled and coarsely chopped
  • 1 medium celery stalk, coarsely chopped
  • 1 medium leek, coarsely chopped
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 12 whole black peppercorns
  • 2 quarts water
  • 6 medium red beets
  • 1/4 head green cabbage, shredded (about 3 cups)
  • 1/2 cup minced fresh dill
  • 1/2 cup sour cream, for garnish (optional)
For now I will give you just the ingredients… to know how it is made, you must come and see me in action.  I promise, watching me make borscht will leave you breathless.  In the meantime, I have enclosed another photograph of myself for you, so that my indisputable masculinity might take your breath away even from this distance.
Dos vedanya,
Vlad “The Impaler” Putin


Dearest Vlad,


Your recipe for borscht does, indeed, sound delicious.  I shall have to consult my calendar, but perhaps an ecumenical mission to bring the Roman Catholic and the Russian Orthodox Churches together once again is in order.

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on October 11, 2010 at 11:34 pm

Random Thought: College Football Players

I wear my team windbreaker year round. I’m a starter, a lineman on the practice squad, and everybody needs to know that I play ball for State.

Man, our football team is sooo cool. It’s not that big of deal our team lost 10 of 12 games last year. It just depends on how you look at it. The glass is 2/12 full, not 10/12 empty. Besides, our football team won 10 of 36 games over the last three years. It takes two hands to count ten wins. And that’s not easy.

We’re going to win a championship next season. After that, I’m going to high step my way straight to the NFL draft. At 6′ 6″  I’m pretty nimble for a giant, and pretty sure Deon Sanders or someone else from ESPN will be calling my iPhone any minute now. I have a custom ring, too. It sounds like a cash register opening: “Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching!”

Man, I am sooo sick. I grope hot chicks on the reg. I eat PowerBars on the reg. I wear windbreakers, basketball shorts and sandals with socks on the reg. On campus I move in slow motion. I want to be noticed. My sweat glands are extremely sensitive. That’s why I don’t wear sweatpants, like some of the other players. If I did, then people might notice my swamp-ass.

I can’t wait for my 1 pm class. It’s astronomy, or political science, or _________ — I don’t know, but during lectures everyone’s always checking me out. Fans, probably.

Of course I have a blog. It gets at least like twelve hits every day. Fans, probably.

I stare at the mirror and blow kisses to my-naked-self for three hours straight every night. My gut makes me gorgeous.

I’m a little surprised no one has asked me for my autograph yet. Especially because it’s going to be worthless. I mean priceless or worth even more, heh, in the future. Man, my signature is sooo cool. See, what I do, is: I write my first name in capital letters, then my number underneath it. Phone number, I mean. And I only sign my name on boobs and player contracts. Heh!

Hopefully the Chargers will pick me up. That way I can stay in San Diego, in the sunshine, in the mix with all the hot chicks and then in January, at the start of every year, I will still be able to say “we’re finally going to win a championship next season.”

Go 9ers.

The Tip-Off

In Hobo Jungle on October 10, 2010 at 9:18 am

We tell you what’s worth celebrating in the week ahead… hobo-style.

Sunday, October 10

On this day in 1575, Roman Catholic forces captured Philippe de Mornay in the Battle of Domans.  I don’t know what that is, but you can commemorate it with a Rebecca de Mornay movie.  I recommend The Hand That Rocks The Cradle.  That movie rocks.  Like a cradle.  With a hand on it.  Or something.  If that’s not really your bag, celebrate the birthdays of both San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom and better-known-as-AC-Slater Mario Lopez by lathering yourself with hair gel and trying to bang everyone you meet.  When that starts to get depressing, remember that Jack Daniel — yes, that Jack Daniel — died on this date in 1911.  Buy some whiskey and pour one out for the homie.

Monday, October 11

There’s nothing better to celebrate today than the forty-eighth anniversary of the start of the Second Vatican Counsel, convened by Pope John XXIII to liberalize Church practices — or, as the current pontiff has described it in correspondence with this website, “some hippie shit John tried back in the sixties… I think somebody put acid in his Communion wine.”  Get shitfaced on some vino and be prepared to preach in your local language whilst facing your congregation, because baby, it’s a whole new world out there.  (If you are not Catholic, feel free to observe the total non-holiday of Henry Heinz’s 1844 birthday by chugging ketchup packets until you vomit.  Bet you wish you were a Papist now, huh??)

Tuesday, October 12

Today is Freethought Day, a holiday honoring secularism and independent thinking.  CELEBRATE EXACTLY AS I TELL YOU TO!  By which I mean, party down for Oktoberfest, which began on this date in 1810 when some Bavarian royalty with insanely long and unpronouncible names decided to get hitched.  Drink some German beer and eat all the sauerkraut you can stomach, because Oktoberfest comes but once a year.  Today also marks the anniversary of the initial publication of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” but only a total nerd would want to celebrate something like that.

Wednesday, October 13

OH MY GOD IT’S 1013 IT’S CHRIS CARTER’S BIRTHDAY HE MADE “THE X-FILES” AND IS AMAZING YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!  (Note to self: call in sick to work, spend the day reading fanfic.)  (Note to readers: do the same.  IT’S THE BEST SHOW EVER AND IF YOU DISAGREE I WILL CUT YOU.)  Beyond this, there is literally nothing important that happened today.  (Hey!  That’s the name of an “X-Files” episode!  Hobo Pancakes + Fox Mulder 4EVA!!!!!)

Thursday, October 14

Although you’ll probably spend most of the day recovering from the previous night’s debauched revelry, take some time to commemorate the start of the Cuban Missile Crisis by getting in a fight with a rich, photogenic Irish guy and eating a giant plate of black beans.  Soon you’ll have a missile crisis of your very own… in your pants.

Friday, October 15

On this day in 1793, Marie Antoinette was tried and convicted.  Eat some cake.

Saturday, October 16

Today’s holiday is Boss’s Day!  Wait… isn’t EVERY day boss’s day?!  Those wily fucks!  Get down with your bad self by quitting your job and becoming your own goddamn boss.  Or at least by fantasizing about it while you get piss-drunk and spend the day hating your life.  Seriously, what the hell else are you going to do on a Saturday?  God made the weekends for drinking!  And self-congratulatory holidays honoring people who already have more money and power than you will likely ever see, but, well, at least there’s booze for the rest of us.  Thanks, Jack Daniel.  You can be the boss of me any day!

Hump Day Striptease

In Hobo Jungle on October 7, 2010 at 4:26 pm

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on October 5, 2010 at 7:28 am

Infallible advice from the Vatican’s very own love doctor!

Dear Pope,

My boyfriend totally asked me the weirdest thing. See, we have this friend. Janine. Janine is insane, but she’s cool. Anyway, Janine wants a baby — she seriously wants a baby — but there’s a problem: Janine totally doesn’t have a boyfriend. And isn’t very likely to get one, because of the crazy. (Also, sometimes she smells like onions. I guess that’s because she works at a taco truck? You’d think she could find herself a nice Mexican or something.) Also, Janine is getting kind of old — seriously, she is almost thirty-two, so her eggs are, like, getting shriveled and shit. Anyway, so what my boyfriend asked me is this: apparently Janine asked him if she could use his sperm to make a Frankenbaby, in case she can’t roofie some random frat boy in time to give her his hot love injection before her uterus collapses in on itself like a dying star. And my boyfriend is actually thinking it over! But he wants my opinion before giving her an answer, which I appreciate, and my opinion is this: HELLS NO! I do NOT need my bf getting into baby mama drama with a tequila-chugging, taco-truck-employed crazypants friend of mine. Especially because I know the way Janine parties, and that kid would probably come out with fetal alcohol syndrome. Also, I know the way Janine’s face looks, and that kid would probably come out with fetal ugly syndrome. (Seriously, I love Janine, but she has eyebrows like Peter Gallagher, a nose like Don Cheadle, and a mouth like Janet Reno.  And that’s on a good day.) It would just be grossness all over the place!

So anyway, Pontiff, how do I tell this to my boyfriend and my friend Janine without offending either of them?

Megain in Manhattan

My Dearest Megain,

While motherhood is the highest purpose for which God created woman, what your friend is suggesting is an abomination — in vitro fertilization is a tool of the devil, aetheists, and Melissa Etheridge.  I suggest utilizing evolution’s oldest trick (evolution is, after all, guided by the hand of God and represents the best of natural law) and getting pregnant yourself, posthaste, immediately after marrying this boyfriend of yours.  A loving commitment blessed by God and the Church will preclude your boyfriend (or in this scenario, husband!) from spreading his seed willy-nilly, even into wombs which reeks of alliums.  Moreover, reassure your friend that hope is not lost: as we always say here in Rome when explaining why marriages predicated upon procreation are acceptable amongst elderly heterosexuals but not between gays of any age, it is never too late for a miracle!  This will assuredly offer hope to your friend, and hope is worth far more than your boyfriend’s sperm.

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on October 4, 2010 at 8:14 am
Random Thought: New Words
d’lflungrin [dolph lundgren]
(past and past participle d’flungrined [dolph lundgren-ed], present participle d’lflungrin [dolph lundgren-ing], 3rd person present singular d’lflungrins [dolph lundgrens]
1. act like Dolph Lundgren: to resemble the characteristics of Ivan Drago, a character played by Dolph Lundgren in Rocky IV.
“Breathing through his nostrils and without a left shoe, Teddy d’lflungrined a triathlon in under an hour.”
2. pulverize something: to effortlessly destroy an object.
“On my sprint home from the dojo I passed an exploding oak tree, because I d’lflungrined it.”
3. resemble a machine: somebody acting in a way that resembles a robot.
“Andy d’lflungrined eighteen doughnuts, then he went out for supper at Mandarin Buffet.”
coop d’twat [koonamatwata]
1. overthrow of manhood: the swift seizure of the manliness and manpower of an adulterous male by a group of females who use blitzkrieg tactics and deploy from the women’s restroom, headquarters.
“Flanking from the women’s bathroom, the coop d’Ãtwat swarmed in on him, Sancho Panza, who didn’t stand a chance.”
2. Females interrogating a male: a squadron of women aggressively questioning a man who they suspect has cheated on his girlfriend, who’s crying in the women’s restroom.
“Ever since the coop d’twat incident, Albert hasn’t talked much and will never see Paige again.”
Schwap [shwap]
noun (plural schwaps)
triumphant shout: the sound of victory.
“Jimmy called Sally a slut so Sally kicked Jimmy in the balls and yelled, ‘Schwap!’”
Glued [glood]
Extremely stoned: to be so blasted off the stickiest, ickiest California chronic that the individual becomes temporarily immobile and stuck to the couch.
“After smoking too much reefer Harry was totally glued, then he snapped out of it and started making up words.”

Franco Fridayz

In Hobo Jungle on October 1, 2010 at 12:00 am

Dear Nana Franco,

What gives?  It’s been almost two weeks since we last heard from you!  You may not be aware, due to what we assume is your advanced age, that Hobo Pancakes and its subsidiary, Hobo Jungle, is a very serious, very deadlined operation!  You give us Franco gold one week, and then nothing?  Thanks for the teaser, you miserable old biddy.

On second thought, due to what we assume is your advanced age, you may be dead or otherwise incapacitated.  If you are still among the living, please send us something new post haste!  If we do not hear from you, we will take for granted that you have parted from this world and will hold an open thread memorial service that will probably only be attended by Jason Henry McCormick, Xenia Schiller, Kate Burns and that poop guy.  You’re welcome and/or rest in peace.


The Hobo Pancakes Team

Dear Hobo Pancakes,

Oh, dear!  I didn’t mean to cause you any frustration or worry, and I would never intentionally compromise the integrity of your online publication!  Obviously, I’m alive and mostly well–I do have a slight arrythmia of the heart, but I keep that in check with beta blockers and the occasional defibrillation.

But enough about me.  First of all, I do apologize for failing to send any of my James’ work for the past few weeks.  I had a bit of a run-in with James’ cleaning lady, who, as it turns out, is a cleaning gentleman.  His name is Guadalupe (Guad to his friends) and he sounds just like Rita Moreno over the phone, so hopefully you will understand my confusion.  He logged onto your site at my suggestion to check on the legitimacy of our little project here and was absolutely horrified to discover that I thought he was a woman.  An gift card, a box of Godiva chocolates and several very looooong conversations about gender identity later, Guad is back on board!

Now, in exchange for his continued involvement, he does have a rather lengthy list of demands, but I suggested that before we get into negotiating all that, he should send at least one item in advance as a show of good faith.  And here it is, a discarded draft for James’ next New York City art show, “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Pen15.”  It’s a delightful found paper sketch in crayon and ink–I’m afraid it got a bit smudged in the trashcan, but Guad did a wonderful job of smoothing out the creases.  Enjoy!

Gumdrop hugs and gingerbread kisses,

Nana Franco

Obits From the Future

In Hobo Jungle on September 30, 2010 at 11:06 pm

Brat Pack Actor Emilio Estevez Dies At 60

By Ms. Sowerberry

July 10, 2022

Actor, director and folk singer Emilio Estevez passed away last Monday from injuries sustained while setting off illegal fireworks.  He was 60 years old.

The son of celebrated actor Martin Sheen, Estevez burst onto the cinematic scene at age 21 with a role in the film adaptation of S.E. Hinton’s classic book The Outsiders.  Along with Outsiders co-star Rob Lowe, Estevez went on to even greater fame as a member of the “Brat Pack,” a 1980s teenage talent stable that included Anthony Michael Hall, Andrew McCarthy, Demi Moore, Judd Nelson, Molly Ringwald and Ally Sheedy.  Apart from the films they made, the Brat Packers were primarily known for their entitled whiteness, trivial problems and kickass parties.  In a 1985 interview, Outsiders supporting player Matt Dillon sniffed, “You wanna talk about being an ‘outsider?’  Try gettin’ into one of Rob Lowe’s parties if you ain’t in his little club.”

In the midst of his Brat Pack notoriety, Estevez dated and impregnated model Carrey Sally.  Their union produced two children, Taylor Levi in 1984 and Paloma Rae in 1986.  The couple never married and Estevez was later briefly engaged to future cradle-robber Demi Moore.

Inkeeping with his new status as a parent, Estevez soon began appearing in more adult films, notably 1987′s Stakeout and the Razzie Award-winning Maximum Overdrive (written and directed by Stephen King).  He also collaborated with his brother (substance- and spouse- abuse enthusiast Charlie Sheen) on Men at Work, a comedy about trash collectors.

In the early 90s, Estevez endeared himself to a whole new generation of young people in The Mighty Ducks.  The film featured Estevez as Gordon Bombay, a callous lawyer-turned-peewee hocky coach.  The franchise was so successful that it spawned three sequels (D2: The Mighty Ducks, D3: The Mighty Ducks and D4-3-D:The Mighty Ducks) and an ill-fated animated series.  At this time, Estevez also endeared himself to pop singer Paula Abdul.  The couple married in 1992, but split in 1994 because Estevez wasn’t on board with Abdul’s desire for “children or a crippling drug problem, whichever comes first.”  Estevez did eventually get engaged again in 2006 to writer Sonja Magdevski, but the couple never officially married due to the fact that Estevez could never pronounce her last name correctly.

Before leaving Hollywood behind, Estevez directed a number of television shows and films, notably The War at Home (starring his father) and Bobby (also starring his father), a star-studded ensemble retelling of US Senator and Notable Kennedy Robert Kennedy’s assassination.

Estevez’s father and frequent collaborator, Martin Sheen, suffered a debilitating stroke in 2017.  Sheen’s resulting paralysis ended his own acting career, as well as Estevez’s career behind the camera.  No longer content to be just a pretty face, Estevez opted to tour the world with his Peter, Paul and Mary-esque folk band, Emilio and the Lesser Estevezes.  Estevez played lead guitar while brother Ramon handled lead vocals/tambourine and sister Renee played drums.  The group released a single album, “No Charlies Allowed” in 2019 and travelled extensively with 30 seconds to Mars, Juliette and the Licks, Martini Ranch and The Bacon Brothers as part of the annual “What Day Job?” Tour.  Emilio and the Lesser Estevezes have been described as “the Carpenters via Madrid and nepotism.”

The band officially disbanded in 2020 and Estevez retired to Malibu, where he spent time with his family, watched Antiques Roadshow and made prank phone calls to Robert Downey, Jr. up until his untimely July 4 death.

Estevez is survived by his parents, Martin Sheen and Jean Templeton, his three siblings, fiancee Sonja Magdevski and children Taylor and Paloma.

Hump Day Striptease

In Hobo Jungle on September 29, 2010 at 10:38 pm

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on September 28, 2010 at 9:40 am

Infallible advice from the Vatican’s very own love doctor!

Dear Pope,

Ciao bello to my adopted Italian brother!  Unfortunately, I come to you today because of a problem with another Italian brother.  My dearest Papa, I fear I have a touch of the sin in me — the sinful lust for a man.  It is my brother, you see; we have worked together for years but now he takes me on adventures, to all different levels, with talking turtles and princesses and go-karts.  It is all too much, and he wears these red overalls that are so cute, he looks just like a young Al Pacino.  If Al Pacino could fix your sink and race go-karts.  I have been rolling gnocchi and drying prosciutto for a special night, but I know in my heart that no matter which wine I select for the evening, it is all wrong!

Seriously, Papa, what do I do?



My dear Luigi,
You are correct in that this is sin in your heart, and it is wrong.  The Heavenly Father, however, offers a path to salvation: whatever your orientation, so long as you do not act on it in sin, you may still find yourself with Christ.  It is, as we say in the Catholic Church, a useful loophole.

Now, although your planned meal sounds delicious, and your grasp of fine Italian cuisine solid, I ask that you put down the pasta and Chianti and trade romance for a rosary.  Perhaps this is an activity in which you and your brother might be wise to engage together; it is free of “talking turtles” but rich with spiritual reward.  I recommend in particular the Sorrowful Mysteries of the rosary, that you might reflect upon the great sacrifice made by the Son of God and so reconsider your trip into sinfulness.  If Jesus suffered crucifixion to cleanse us of sin, then surely you can remain pure in the presence of your kin, no matter the color of his overalls.

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on September 27, 2010 at 10:24 pm

Random Thought: Prank Chat!

Welcome to an online chat session at Bank of America. Please hold while we connect you to the next available Bank of America Online Banking Specialist. Your chat may be monitored and recorded for quality purposes. Your current wait time is approximately 0 minutes. Thank you for your patience.

Fred: Hello! My name is Fred. Thank you for being a valued Bank of America customer. How may I help you with your personal checking and savings opened in the state of California?

You: Hello? Can you see me? How’d you do that?

Fred: Yes!

You: Hello?

Fred: Yes!

You: Oh. Hi.

Fred: How may I help you today?

Fred: Hi!

Fred: How are you doing today?

You: I’m fine, thank you. Very fine. I don’t trust you. Fred, look, let’s cut the crap. Both of us know you work for the Bourgeoisie and that’s okay and why I don’t trust you. My account’s overdrawn. I haven’t yet been charged a fee but, like I say, I don’t trust you. Either you or another member of your party, one of the bourgeoisies of America, is trying to set me up, trying send me to the guillotine, to hustle me for another fee or something else. Oh, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess: the first overdraft fee hasn’t yet posted because somebody, some bourgeois over there just pulled the “HOLD ON LET’S FUCK THIS GUY SOME MORE!” switch, which in this case means I’m the guy, and whoever this someone is, the one that’s in charge of the switch and my account, must be just waiting for me to overdraw my account again, and that way the bourgeoisie can then charge me for not only one, but two “GO FUCK YOURSELF!” overdraft charges!!! Yay Fred! Will I be charged these fees sometime soon? Please?

Fred: I understand you would like to know if the account will be charged with overdraft fee.

You: Yes. Please.

Fred: I will look into this and help you in the best possible way.

You: You’re still there, right?

Fred: May I please have your full name and last 4 digits of the account in the question?

You: No I don’t trust you.

Fred: Yes I am with you.

You: Okay fine. Jason Henry McCormick 3921

Fred: Thank you, Jason.

Fred: Please give me a moment while I pull up your account details.

You: I’m sorry for — sure thing — having to ask you if you’re still there all the time. it’s just that my computer keeps yelling at me to install this stupid additional plug-in, but i don’t want to install this stupid additional plug-in because I don’t trust Quicktime, either, bro. You know what I mean?

Fred: Jason, I understand your point of view.

Fred: That’s fine.

You: That’s the perfect answer, Fred. I’m feel better, knowing that you understand my point of view.

You: Thanks.

Fred: You are welcome.

Fred: Jason, I see that there were two transactions which overdrew your account.

You: Yes. On the 17th, I believe.

Fred: Yes, Jason. It was on 17th. However account was overdrawn by less than $10.00 by the end of the day.

Fred: So the account will not incur overdraft fees.

You: So what does that mean?

You: Woooooomotherfuckinhoo! No fees Fred!

You: I’m goin to Vegas baby!

Fred: Yes there will be no fee!

You: Thanks, Fred. You’re the man.

Fred: You are most welcome.

Fred: Thank you!!

Fred: Is there anything else I can help you with?

You: That is all. Have a great weekend.

Fred: You are most welcome.

Fred: I personally thank you for being a valued long time customer of us. We greatly appreciate your business.

You: Yeah, yeah.

Fred: Take care and have a great day!

Fred: Please click the “Close” button on the upper right corner of the chat window.

You: Are you telling me what to do, Fred?

Fred: No. I am only a teller.

You: Ha! Ha! Teller! Good one! Bye.

Mad Madame Xenia’s Hometruth Horoscopes

In Hobo Jungle on September 23, 2010 at 12:00 pm

Once a month, our very own Mad Madame Xenia looks deep into the future and tells you sad sacks what’s what.  Just like that lady on TV with the fake Jamaican accent, but with more bitterness and gin.


September 23 – October 22


It’s All About You:


My precious alcoholic! How are you? Wait, don’t answer that.


I already know.


You’re tired, overwrought, distressed. How to keep things in balance? You don’t know; you never have! You get by on hot press and cool zodiacal icons. Well let me tell you, my hard-partying friend, no one ever discovered peace of mind while prospecting in a toilet. It’s time to look elsewhere.


Look within.


And then look without because all you found there was a mass of neurosis, six undigested pretzels and three strands of blond hair. And you – a brunette. Shame.


But in that seventh circle of hell known as your psyche, you spied the narcissism that makes you both the life of the party and the call that goes to voice mail. Heed the primal screaming of your inner Me-Beast – something’s got to give, Libra.


It’s in the Stars:


I knew you wouldn’t know what, so I made a list.


Some Things That You Have Got to Give

  1. Money – to your Landlord (You spent the rent . . . again.)
  2. Attention – to anyone else.
  3. Silence -  to the world at large.


Balance, though. Remember?


Some Things That You Have Got to Take

  1. My Advice – Who knows you better, Libra?
  2. Heed – and listen to my advice.
  3. A Break – do you realize what you just said?


Sweet Hermes, you are exhausting. Now shut the hell up so I can get some sleep.

Hump Day Striptease

In Hobo Jungle on September 22, 2010 at 10:27 pm

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on September 21, 2010 at 5:31 pm

Infallible advice from the Vatican’s very own love doctor!

Dear Pope,

My wrestling buddy Doo-Rag saw an ad for this movie where somebody films his friend losing his virginity.  Now he wants to film ME losing my virginity!  Don’t get me wrong, Your Holiness, I want to do porn some day — maybe when I get to college I can destroy some sluts on Redtube — but I just think getting my career started with my very first time might be a little… premature, if you know what I mean.  Like, dude, I might not last all that long, you know?  I don’t want to be embarrassed or crap!



Dear FreshMeat14,

Your virginity is a sacred contract between you and the Lord.  In giving it away on your wedding night, no one else should be present except you, your wife, and God.  Christ is the only audience you will ever need for your love-making.  Keep this in your heart, and you can evade the temptations of modern society. Do not let Hollywood trash lead you astray; its rewards are fleeting, while the tender embrace of the Almighty Father lasts forever.

Although I am not familiar with “Redtube”, I can only imagine it to be the Satanic twin of the YouTube.  Much as we all love videos of cats playing piano, we must be on guard against the potential for sin offered to us by Internet video.  The best way to “destroy” a sexually promiscuous young lady is not with pornography, but with the message of the Gospels.  Perhaps you should encourage your friend Doo-Rag to read the words of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John before he picks up his camera again.

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on September 21, 2010 at 1:32 am

Random Thought: Montrealers

Last night I spoke in French with a young and pretty lady at a bar on St. Catherine street, the main drag in Montreal. It went down like this:

“Bonjour,” I said.

She said “Bonjour.”

“Jim apple Jason. Y tu?”

“He! He!”


She turned and left my life for good. The end.

Today I’m chatting with another one in Burlington, Vermont.

“May I have your number?” I say, grabbking for my cell phone in my pocket.

She smiles. “Oui,” she says, looking at the bulge of my hand or maybe of my johnson in my trousers.

Then I pull out my broke-ass Nokia cell phone, the Zack Morris model.

“Wait,” she says, “actually, um, nevermind.”

I’ll never see her again either.

Obits From the Future

In Hobo Jungle on September 17, 2010 at 5:18 pm

Former Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice Dead at 95

By Ms. Sowerberry

April 18, 2050

Condoleeza “Condi” Rice, America’s first female African-American Secretary of State, passed away last Tuesday.  She was 95 years old.

In 2046, following her celebrated turns as diplomat, politician, professor, author and erotic film star, Rice retired to Uncle Tom’s Elder Plantation in Marin County, CA, where she organized and led a chamber orchestra called “The Negligente Nonagenarians.”  The group lived up to its name when another member left his clarinet case next to Ms. Rice’s piano bench, later causing her to trip and impale herself on the endpin of a nearby cello.

Born in Birmingham, AL in 1954 to Reverend John Wesley Rice, Jr. and Angelena Ray, Rice spent her youth studying French, figure skating, ballet, music and the effects of segregation on colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow wasn’t enuf (although Rice herself preferred the Anglicized spelling).

Rice graduated Phi Beta Kappa from the University of Denver with a BA in political science and went on to earn her master’s degree and PhD in the same field from the University of Notre Dame and the Josef Korbel School of International Studies at the University of Denver, respectively .  Rice’s first stint at the State Department came in 1977, under President Jimmy Carter, but left to complete her doctorate after exposure to the “goober president” triggered her peanut allergies.

In 1981, Rice was hired by Stanford University, where she rose quickly from her position as assistant professor to provost of the school in 1993.  During this period, Rice also served as director (later Senior Director) of Soviet and East European affairs under President George H. W. Bush, who famously boasted that Rice “told him all he needed to know about the Soviets.  And black people.”  President Bush’s son, future president George W. Bush, developed a schoolboy crush on Rice during her tenure with his father’s administration and, following his own election as POTUS,  employed her as foreign policy advisor, the nation’s first female National Security Advisor, and finally Secretary of State.  Bush II appointed Rice as Secretary of State following Colin Powell’s resignation and a marathon game of schoolyard game MASH which predicted that Bush II would live in a shack with Secretary of State Rice, where they would have 4 children and a marmot named Clyde.  Though few of the game’s other predictions came to fruition, Rice served as Secretary of State until Bush left office in 2009 and Rice presented Bush with a marmot on his 75th birthday.

Rice returned to Stanford University in 2009 as a political science professor and senior fellow of the Hoover Institute.  In 2018, Rice participated in President Sarah Palin’s revamp of the Republican party by appearing in several of Palin’s “Mama Grizzly Presductions” erotic films–described by Palin herself as “tasteful celebrations of women’s sexuality inspired by Victorian erotica, for men and women who agree that women should be wedded, corseted and not heard while being bedded.”  Originally conceived as thank you gifts for Republican campaign contributors, the films featuring Rice proved so popular that she starred as herself in her own trilogy, Sexretary of Spooge: The Secret of Jackie O’s Diaphragm, featuring Blaxploitation actress Pam Grier as Rice’s loose-cannon sidekick, Treasury Secretary Trixie Trilliant.  The films grossed over $9 billion worldwide, which producer/star Rice donated to balance the US national deficit in 2020.  The trilogy has been praised as the most electrifying depiction of mature female sexuality since 1985′s Cocoon.  The films were recently rereleased as part of Time-Life’s “Pornographic Politicos” series.

Rice became President of Stanford in 2031 and occupied that post until her retirement 14 years later.  Rice’s most notable contribution as President was the authorization of enhanced torture techniques for campus police attempting to identify and punish perpetrators of collegiate hijinx.  However, Rice later stated that she merely informed Stanford’s law enforcement that they had the authority to torture, not that she personally endorsed such techniques.

Rice’s body will lie in state at The National Presbyterian Church in Washington, DC, before being interred in Arlington National Cemetery.  Yo-Squared (the artist formerly known as Yo-Yo Ma), will accompany services on his cello–a controversial choice in light of the manner of Rice’s death. An only child and single woman, Ms. Rice leaves behind no survivors.

Hump Day Strip Tease

In Hobo Jungle on September 15, 2010 at 5:21 pm

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on September 15, 2010 at 2:19 am

Infallible advice from the Vatican’s very own love doctor!

Dear Pope,

My wife and I are about to celebrate our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and things have gotten a little bit… dull in the bedroom.  Do you have any tips to spice things up?


Bored in Boston

Dear Bored,

A strong and healthy marriage blessed by the Church is a beautiful thing, second only to a life of celibate devotion to Christ.  However, too often in contemporary society we are tempted to view such a sacred bond through the lens of romantic passion, rather than its true purpose: to be a pale shadow of the procreative love of God.  Therefore, I recommend as a marital aid playing a bit of Gregorian chant (to get her “in the mood”) followed by a moment of prayer that your lovemaking might lead to what God intended: the creation of a new life.  There is, after all, no bigger turn-on than the prospect of increasing the numbers of the Catholic flock!

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on September 13, 2010 at 5:29 pm

Random Thought: Eggos Are Important

Tomorrow morning, at eight sixteen a.m., a spokesman for an Eggo factory in Chicago will announce that the plant will shut down operations indefinitely and effective immediately because of heavy wind damage done to the factory during a ferocious winter storm. Over the next hour thirteen hundred Americans will burn their tongues at Starbucks after being startled by vibrations of their iPhone’s incoming news alerts about the crisis. At high noon an Eggo waffle factory in California will explode due to a “sewage pipe malfunction” after someone flushes a super turd with enough magnitude to back up the sewage system of an entire city grid. The factory’s sewage pipes will not be able to withstand the amount pressure that the shit will create. Someday it will be referred to as the turd heard round the world. Around one fifteen congress will call for the immediate extraction of all US military employees in Iraq and Afghanistan amidst reports of a sudden and extreme decline in troop morale because of the news about the Eggo crisis and the greatening concerns about breakfast. At four thirteen the CEO of Eggo’s will hold an emergency press conference and inform the media that the company has decided to “let go of Eggo’s” and discontinue waffle production until further notice because of the recent tragedies involving the company and its dear employees. Between four thirty and five o’clock a man will be trampled by looters pursuing the last packs of Eggo’s at a supermarket in Orange County, California. Gary Robinson will die hungry again.

Franco Fridayz

In Hobo Jungle on September 10, 2010 at 6:59 pm

Dear Hobo Pancakes,

Thank you for agreeing to run some of my James’ work on your website!  It might be a little difficult for me to get some of his recent work to you–his literary agent found out about our arrangement and was not happy about it at all.  She says it undermines the “seriousness and rarity” of her client, but I told that flashy young barracuda that I’ve known about her client’s seriousness and rarity since he was in diapers, so there.  I am getting one of my granddaughters to teach me how to “hack” into James’ “computer” so I can give you some up-to-the-minute drafts.  I’m also paying James’ cleaning lady to pull some of his stuff out of the trashcan.  Until then, enjoy this story, which James wrote for me when he was just a little dumpling in first grade.

Gumdrop hugs and gingerbread kisses,

Nana Franco

“Potty Break”

By James “The Karate Kid” Franco

When I go to the bathroom today, I know it will be trouble because Arnie is in there.  Arnie is a big fat kid who no one likes, especially me, because one day I brought my Matchbox cars to show and tell and he stepped on my favorite one.  He said there was a big bug in the driver’s seat, but I knew there wasn’t and he just stepped on it because he is a doodyhead.

I want to not stand next to Arnie while I went potty.  It’s funny that my mommy calls it going potty, because for boys, boys do not use the potty except for number two.  But mommy calls it that, so I call it that too.  My mommy is nice.  She makes me peanut butter and banana sandwiches and takes me to see the Karate Kid, that is a good movie.

But I have to stand next to Arnie.  I have to because Paul is at the other one and there is only one other place to potty in our bathroom at school and oops, it is right next to Arnie, even though I don’t like him.  So I stand next to Arnie and I unzip my pee-pee and Arnie looks right at it like my Daddy said never to do because that is for fagits.  I don’t know what fagits is but Daddy says they are bad.  But Arnie does and so I guess he is fagits.

I am so nervous.  I don’t like Arnie looking at my pee-pee.  Arnie says, “Hey, Jimmy, what’s wrong with your pee-pee?”  And I say, “Nothing except it is nervous that you are looking at it.”  Then Arnie says, “I don’t like you.”  And I don’t say anything because I am thinking about Karate Kid and my eyes are closed.  And then Arnie is leaving and he is not washing his hands and when he is gone, my pee-pee starts to work.

The End.

Obits From the Future

In Hobo Jungle on September 10, 2010 at 3:44 pm

Snoop Dogg Alive and Well

By Ms. Sowerberry

June 11, 4019

It has become apparent that celebrated rapper Snoop Dogg will never die.

Hump Day Strip Tease

In Hobo Jungle on September 8, 2010 at 5:24 pm

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on September 7, 2010 at 5:45 pm

Dear Pope (heeeheeeheee Pope is a funny name!  Your name sounds like poop!),

I was wondering how much does your religion cost?  My parents’ religion costs a lot of money.  They are almost Jedi Knights and they say if I study hard they will pay for me to be a Jedi Knight too, but when I try to be good and study they put this thing on my head like at the doctor’s.  They say it’s called an e-meter and doesn’t hurt but it still makes me scared so I don’t want to be a Jedi Knight after all.

Also I was wondering about where babies come from.  My mommy told me that when a mommy and a daddy love each other very very much they can make a baby, but my mommy and my daddy never talk to each other or see each other when they are not around other people.  Do babies only get made around other people?  Where can I go to see a baby get made?

Thank you very much Mr. Poopy-Pope!


Suri Cruise

My dear Miss Cruise,

The loving light of the Catholic Christ is free for all to embrace, my child.  The times of tithing and indulgences are well behind us, and the Vatican survives well off of its massive stores of gold and jewels.  But enough of boring church administration, which cannot be exciting to a child!  I am gratified that you are reaching out to us, dear child, for I fear that your parents are in a cult, or at the very least unsavory spiritual company.  I, too, understand what it is to be a small child pressed into organizational service for a larger goal which you don’t understand or agree with.  Hitler’s Youth Army also promised us all the glory of “Star Wars,” but yet I remained uninterested.  Your struggle, my child, is as old as time.

As regards the creation of children, well, they are made with the blessings of Christ, or else formulated by science in an unholy laboratory.  Given the scenario you have described above, I am sorry to inform you that you seem likely to have been born of the second option.  Although you are a mongrel of man and monster, there is still room for you in the heart of Jesus.  Baptism and confession shall cleanse you of your unholy past, and the Mother Church will welcome your presence.

And, yes, “pope” is a funny word, but please refrain from calling me “Mr. Poopy Pope.”  My robes are accommodating and I am an old, old man, but this adult diaper I wear remains my great secret shame.

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on September 6, 2010 at 9:44 am

Random Thought: Fred

Nobody has ever seen the bird called Fred, but everyone has heard his chirps. He comes around in the springtime, between two and five o’clock in the morning. Is he invisible? Perhaps.

To the ear, he sounds like this:

“Pchew. Pchew. Pchew. Pchew. Ringeringeringeringer. Drrrrret! Pchew. Pchew. Pchew. Drrrrret! Karrrrrat ta te! Pchew. Pchew. Pchew. Pchew.”

But in your heart he sounds like this:

“Where? What? Who? Fuck? Is that a bird? Shhhhhit! Oh my god. It’s four o’clock in the morning probably. For chrissake. Did that bird just say karate? That Goddam/fucking/silly bird is sooo ______ annoying!”

Random Thought: Peter Pan and Indian Philosophy

Ever since I was a young boy I’ve wanted to fly to Never Never Land like Peter Pan.

Who says I can’t?

On December 27, 1904, the very first theatrical performance of “Peter Pan, or the Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up,” a play written by Scottish writer J.M. Berrie, had taken place at a theatre in London, England. “Never Never,”which are both the same word, leads to a double negation, because the two words have been written in repetition. Thus, from the original title “Never Never Land,” we are left with one word: “Land.” Now, “land” is a very, very vague term. It could mean “part of earth” or “imaginary place.” To me, “part of earth” and “imaginary place” should never never be used to define the same word. I will tie this in further down the page.

According to the metaphysics of Yoga Sutra, there are two principles of “meditative concentration” (samadhi). The first one doesn’t matter here, so forget it and “imagine” there is only one: nirvikalpa. Yes. Nirvikapla. Not only is it such a cool word, but it is also the only principle of “meditative concentration” (remember: imagine).

The reason “meditative concentration” has and is placed in quote marks within the previous text, is because some guy named Richard King uses that term to define “samadhi.” The problem: both of those words have been written in nearly the same repetitive fashion as “Never Never,” because “meditation” and “concentration” mean almost THE EXACT SAME THING. So, from now on, I will no longer put it in quotes. However, I am not the knucklehead who originally coined the term. Remember that. And King is far, far, far from a writer who chooses his words wisely. It’s because he has a small . . . imagination.

Nirvikalpa relates to consciousness. Specifically, it is consciousness leading to a high, high, HIGH state of mind.

Once a person is high enough, his or her mind reaches purusa, which is the highest state of mind. Purusa is pure consciousness. It is also a state of mind in which one has discontinued to think like a knucklehead. A knucklehead identifies reality with a mind-body complex and therefore FAILS to see reality beyond how the knucklehead PERCEIVES reality. Basically, one who has attained purusa sees the REAL reality.

Keep it real. Attain purusa.

See, the problem is that every individual is doomed by knowledge.

Have a look at this:

“The stream of consciousness (citta-nadi) flows in both directions. It flows to the good and it flows to the bad. The one beginning with knowledge and ending with isolation flows to the good. The one beginning with ignorance and ending in rebirth (samsara) flows to the bad.”

If one flows to the bad he or she is on a freeway without an off-ramp and will never ever make it to Never Never Land. I, however, am already on my way. Why am I already on my way? Simply because I am high, high, high and my state of mind is flowing, flying toward the good.

Franco Fridayz

In Hobo Jungle on September 3, 2010 at 5:51 pm
Dear Hobo Pancakes,

I’m writing to you for help.My grandson is a multi-disciplinary genius, but he is having trouble finding an artistic home.  It’s not easy to locate a place that will accommodate an actor/visual artist/writer like my James.  I know you don’t like cover letters, but I just want you to know that my grandbaby’s pedigree is legitimate.  He has several degrees and is working on his PhD in Literature at Yale.  Yale!  But many people simply do not understand his wunderkindness and write very nasty things about him on the world wide webiverse.  He doesn’t know that I’m writing to you- ”he would be very embarrassed to know that his Nana was “pimping him out,” as the neighborhood kids say- but I was wondering if you could include some of his work on your website?  Thank you very much in advance for your consideration of his work!

Gumdrop hugs and gingerbread kisses,

Nana Franco

Dear Nana Franco,We were going to set your cover letter on fire.  We hates them, precious Nana Franco, because they remind us of our own failings and inferiorities.  But then we stopped, because we remembered that we shouldn’t set our computer on fire.  We need it for making more delicious Hobo Pancakes.

More importantly, we realized that your grandson must be God’s gift to Judd Apatow and the world, James Franco!

We’d absolutely love to feature anything you have to send as a weekly feature on Fridays.  More pictures like this would be just fine.  And, look, it’s true that most critics don’t have much to say in defense of your grandson’s artistic and writerly expression, but here at Hobo Pancakes, we thumb our noses at convention and coherence!  Besides, how bad could it be?
Sincerely, The Hobo Pancakes Team

Obits From the Future

In Hobo Jungle on September 3, 2010 at 5:41 pm
Tennis Ace Andy Roddick Murdered At 35

By Ms. Sowerberry

October 14, 2017

AUSTIN, TX- On October 1, Andy Roddick, celebrated American tennis champion and former world number one, was murdered at Austin’s Alamo Drafthouse Cinema.He was 35 years old.

Early suspicion for the murder fell on longtime Roddick rival Roger Federer.Last year, after a lifetime of losing to Federer, Roddick trounced the waning Swiss powerhouse in all four Association of Tennis Professionals’ Grand Slam Tournaments.  At a press conference following his win at the US Open, Roddick grinned and announced, “I guess it was finally my turn, you know?  Federer’s been slipping up, getting old.  Plus, he bangs a fat chick.  I mean, dude, you’re a pro tennis star- have some self-respect, am I right?”  Roddick went on to exchange high-fives with several reporters from Sports Illustrated magazine and international athletics cartel ESPN before aggressively making out with his wife, SI model Brooklyn Decker.

In response, Federer merely shrugged off Roddick’s criticism.  “Andy is a terrific player, but tennis isn’t only a physical test- it’s also a psychological game.  I think he probably could have beaten me more often when I was at my peak, maybe maintained his rank at number one much longer if I hadn’t started dating Mirka [Vavrinek, Federer's wife and public relations manager] when I did. I knew that Andy would be a threat to my domination on court; I also knew that he would be distracted by the thought of me copulating with someone he deemed unworthy.”

According to lead detective Marshall Delancey, Federer was removed from the suspects list after his alibi (“banging my fat wife”) checked out.

Prior to his retirement this year, Roddick had aggressively antagonized a number of ATP umpires, but interviews with numerous on-court officials produced no leads.

“It was a tough case to crack,” admits Delancey. “We were pretty frustrated after that first week.  You’ve got a tennis sensation getting killed in a public place, at a screening of Swingles 2: The Swingling.Who even goes to see Zach Braff movies anymore?  Looking at similar crimes was of little help to Delancey and his investigative team.  “This isn’t a Monica Seles situation.  Number one, Roddick’s a guy, so he’s never going to play Steffi Graf.  Number two, Roddick’s retired, so he’s not playing anyone, period.  He’s got no history of infidelity, no violent enemies, so at first glance, it seems like a random crank job.”

Delancey finally got a break in the case when another former tennis great was picked up for writing fraudulent checks at a local auto dealership.  Roscoe”The Rocket” Tanner, winner of 1977′s Australian Open, had been bouncing in and out of jail since his initial refusal to pay child support to one of his many ex-wives in 1997.  On the lam since 2010 with arrears upwards of $3 million, Tanner quickly confessed to Roddick’s murder.  “He thought it would be like his other offenses- admit what he’d done, post bail and disappear again,” said Delancey.  “Boy, was he upset when the judge refused to grant bail.”  Tanner cited “revenge” as his motive- Roddick surpassed Tanner’s record for the ATP’s fastest serve in 2004.  Evidently, Tanner was under the impression that once Roddick was dead, the ATP would restore the “fastest serve” title to “the Rocket.”  ATP spokesperson Lila Perkins confirms this as “the stupidest thing we’ve ever heard.”

Tanner has been remanded to Travis State Jail to await trial.His apprehension is a welcome boon for the lawmen who have attempted to track him down, but cold comfort for Roddick’s widow.  In a statement to the press following the murder, a tearful Brooklyn Decker promised to maintain her figure as a living legacy to her late husband.

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on August 31, 2010 at 9:04 am
Are you there, Pope?  It’s me, Margaret.

I don’t know if it’s “kosher” for me to write to you — because, see, I don’t know if I’m Jewish or if I’m Christian or what.  What’s the difference between the Jewish God and the Catholic God?  My grandma says you’re, like, infallible or something, so you can probably help me out.

Also, can we talk about boys?  I heard men of the cloth really dig them, so you can probably give me great advice.  What’s it like to French a boy?  My friend Gretchen says it’s a lot of fun, but I think she might be lying because she can’t really say what Peter McClanahan’s tongue tastes like.  I’m also trying to grow my breasts — can you recommend a bra that will bring me closer to God?

Well, gotta run — it’s that time of the month, and this sanitary napkin won’t belt itself!


Me, Margaret

My dear Margaret,

Are you referring to the monthly visits of the Holy Spirit?  Those are blessed events indeed.  I cannot speak as to what it is like to French a boy (although I know well what it is to German a boy!).

Now, on to your questions: the difference between the Jewish god and the Catholic God is simple; namely, that the Jewish god is not false, but simply incomplete.  The Christian God is a three-for-one deal.  Moreover, although Jewish food is delicious, Catholics give you snacks (in a blind taste-test, tasters chose the Eucharist over matzoh five to one!).  Finally, manischewitz is disgusting.  We Catholics will get you drunk in Mass and outside of it, and we’ll give you the good stuff.

As for your query about a bra, I recommend Maidenform.  It’s what Joan of Arc would have worn.

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on August 30, 2010 at 6:07 pm
Random Thought: Facebook Chat

BIRD: haaay bitch! what’s crackin?

YOU: same shit, different toilet. what up pimp?!

BIRD: OMG, LOL, ur funny, bro. yo, my burfday partys gonna be sooo sick!!! theres gonna be like 8,000 pabst blue ribbons and like a bunch of dank.

YOU: word? A str8 gangsta party?

BIRD: yeah, bro, its gonna be off the hook!!! and the best part is, ive invited a whole pack of random sexy bizzles, and theyre all crazy horny, bro!!!

YOU: rad. random bizzles??? We dont know them?

BIRD: nah, bro, i met them on spacebook, bro!!! anyway, the partys gonna be a hipster theme, so make sure u wear some jorts (jean-shorts) and a v-neck or something wicked like that, and make sure u rock a sweet hairdo – frohawk it, bro! the shits gonna be at my spot, and the shits gonna be the shit, so cruise over with ur a-game this saturday. around noon, k?

YOU: k. ive got the denim doubled up, there’s an epic jacket and some awesome jorts somewhere in my room. oh, ill rock some badass Tivo’s, too.

BIRD: hip! im gonna wear this funny biker wallet chain attached to a pair of righteous jorts that matched a denim vest, and ive got a fake mustache too, bro! whatchya doin now, bro?

YOU: chilling.

BIRD: boring. loser. boredom sucks brosef. I got some dank, u wanna cruise over and puff some dopey dope?

YOU: idunno bro, im pretty tired and lazy and sleepy bro.

BIRD: yawn. lame. don’t be dull and annoying, bro. comeon, im all alone over here. ive got the bomb and im lonely bro!

YOU: OO====D fu, bro. ur crazy emo weird. aight. fine. ill cruise over. hey what r u doin tomorrow? i checked the surf, bro, and theres a cherry swell rollin in!!!

BIRD: i know, its gonna be fantastic hot bro! sounds fockin gnarly bro! I saw that shit on the news and im excited, bro! im down, we’ll get fishy and fire off a few tubes fur sure.

YOU: aight im on the way way right now, ill be over in like thirty. u got a funny cigarette already, or should i bring the binger?

BIRD: yeah i already copped a funny ciggy and troop with the binger bro. ill peep ya when u cruise, ima bounce, peace.


YOU: what?

Random Thought: Fred

Nobody has ever seen the bird called Fred, but everyone has heard his chirps. He comes around in the springtime, between two and five o’clock in the morning. Is he invisible? Perhaps.

To the ear, he sounds like this:

“Pchew. Pchew. Pchew. Pchew. Ringeringeringeringer. Drrrrret! Pchew. Pchew. Pchew. Drrrrret! Karrrrrat ta te! Pchew. Pchew. Pchew. Pchew.”

But in your heart he sounds like this:

“Where? What? Who? Fuck? Is that a bird? Shhhhhit! Oh my god. It’s four o’clock in the morning probably. For chrissake. Did that bird just say karate? That Goddam/fucking/silly bird is sooo ______ annoying!”

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on August 24, 2010 at 10:12 pm
Dear Pope,

You’re a world leader.  I’m a world leader.  You’re an autocrat; I’m an autocrat.  You oversee a massive hierarchy that’s constantly covering up “misdeeds”, let’s say, amongst your rank-and-file; I also oversee a massive hierarchy that’s constantly covering up misdeeds amongst the rank-and-file!  Also, misdeeds of my own.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is: Holy See, will you go out with me?  We could get some borscht and watch “Failure to Launch.”  I can tell you all about the invasion of Chechnya, and you can tell me what it was like to be in Hitler’s Youth.  I know you probably get this kind of thing all the time, so here’s a picture of me, too.

Sincerely, Your Biggest Fan,
Vlad “My Dick Is The Impaler!” Putin

Dear Vlad,Although I appreciate your devotion to the traditional authority of the Church, I must warn against your suggestion of “Failure to Launch.”  The sins of the flesh are multitudinous, and so many are precipitated by Matthew McConaughey movies. Papal encyclical XXVVILDJ, Decorus Men Ut A Delictum Obviam Deus Quod Rectus Lex (“Hollywood Hunks As A Transgression Against God And Natural Law”), officially bans his films from seminaries to prevent our devout young men from slipping into dangerous secular moral philosophies.  As such, I must regretfully decline your offer of companionship, at least as you have formulated our evening.  However, I do love beets.  Perhaps you might join for me a bowl of borscht and a rosary now and again?

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

PS: Thank you for enclosing your picture.  Should you ever attend Mass at St. Peter’s shirtless on horseback, I will identify you readily!

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on August 24, 2010 at 10:01 pm
Random Thought: Adderall

Oh fuck yes. I feel like cleaning.

Random Thought: Damn I need to write more of this shit down.

Mad Madame Xenia’s Hometruth Horoscopes

In Hobo Jungle on August 22, 2010 at 9:54 pm
Once a month, our very own Mad Madame Xenia looks deep into the future and tells you sad sacks what’s what.  Just like that lady on TV with the fake Jamaican accent, but with more bitterness and gin.


August 23 – September 22

It’s All about You:

You are the thinker of the Zodiac, a real savant. You hope this will get you some action but . . . no. Your passive aggressive pleas for attention will be ignored. (I can’t keep doing this with you.)

Chin up, Virgo. That keen mind and analytical nature help you to earn a good living and comfortable surroundings. Beware the tendency to compartmentalize though, especially as it relates to financial matters. I have to grant you exceptional attention to detail, but remember: The IRS is filled with Virgos who also know about compartmentalizing into offshore accounts. An audit in your future, that’s what I’m seeing.

You’re a real perfectionist, never satisfied. No project is ever truly complete. You really do have to work twice as hard to be half as good. Yours is one sucky, sucky sign.

Many think your compulsive behavior is charming, but I see potential here for a promising career in stalking. You try too hard and that’s annoying. I’m surprised no one’s ever mentioned it but I can see right here they haven’t.

Your sense of order and commitment to The One Best Way enable you to spot flaws in others before they spot you outside with the night vision goggles. A natural introvert, once you get to know someone you’re not shy about sharing the many ways they could stand to improve. Possible careers: Psychiatrist, Coach, Warden, Detective, Reality Show Judge, Private Eye, Criminal

It’s in the Stars:

Your chronic paranoia is finally validated by the government’s seizure of your assets.

That kanji tattoo does not say what you think it does. In three weeks you will find out in the most embarrassing way possible. (This really made me laugh.)

Around noon on September 20th, you will completely lose the will to live. Power through, and soon you will be back on top – making others wish they were dead.

Obits from the Future!

In Hobo Jungle on August 20, 2010 at 1:47 am
Tony Hayward, Creator of “Gulf of Texaco,” dies at 73
By Ms. Sowerberry

February 25, 2030

Tony Hayward, the infamous former CEO of oil giant British Petroleum during 2010′s Deepwater Horizon oil spill, died February 17 at his Sevenoaks, Kent estate last Friday.  He was 73.

Hayward was born in Slough, England in 1957 and spent the majority of his adult life working for BP in positions that took him to China, France, Venezuala, Russia and the US before replacing Lord Browne as BP’s head honcho.

On April 20, 2010, BP’s Deepwater Horizons oil rig exploded in the Gulf of Mexico, where it was digging an exploratory well. With the exception of eleven workers, the rig’s crew was safely evacuated from the vessel before it sank two days later.

After making numerous public relations gaffes in his official response to the catastrophe, Hayward was relieved of his position as CEO and returned to his native England. Hayward later toured Eurasia as the opening act for war criminal George W. Bush’s “Boo-Boo Bourgeois” comedy review. Unfortunately, Hayward’s new career was cut short in 2023 by the unexpected return of the eleven workers presumed dead in the explosion. The forgotten crew members had been sailing the high seas as a band of cutthroat pirates called “the Gas Guzzlers.”

Their blockbuster memoir, “Shiver Me Fuel Tank,” was a searing indictment of the international oil industry and Hayward himself. The tell-all book confirmed that the Deepwater rig’s crew had reported ongoing concerns about well control for weeks prior to the explosion and revealed that on the day of the tragedy, Hayward was celebrating “four-twenty,” a holiday for marijuana enthusiasts. This information shed new light on Hayward’s internal communications with the rig on April 20th, which included the phrases, “Just burn one down,” and “Go with the flow, amigo!”

Hayward spent the years between his public disgrace at the hands of the Gas Guzzlers and his death aboard his private yacht and in the confines of his extensive home, listening to old Barbra Streisand records and breaking mirrors at the slightest provocation.

A source close to Hayward’s family reports that, in his final days, “[Tony] spent a lot of time in the bathtub,” where he had constructed a scale model of the Deepwater Horizon oil rig. Obsessed with the disaster that ended his career, Hayward would reenact the explosion, alternately drowning the future Gas Guzzlers and saving them while always trying to devise a better solution for the resulting leak, which had transformed the southeastern United States into a toxic peat bog filled with mutated land and marine life.

Hayward is survived by his wife and two children.

Hump Day Strip Tease

In Hobo Jungle on August 18, 2010 at 10:30 pm

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on August 17, 2010 at 4:43 pm
Dear Pope,

What is the best way to propose to my girlfriend?  Now that Prop 8 is overturned, I want it to be really special!

Jenny in San Francisco

Dear Jenny,

Please remember that the purpose of marriage is procreation, and two people of the same gender can never procreate — at least not without divine intervention (har-har!).  (And not the kind of divine intervention that got Mary knocked up.  Virgin births were only special before test-tube babies and lesbians got invented, okay?)

I must, therefore, discourage you from “marrying” your “girlfriend” and encourage you to save your purity for marriage to a suitable Catholic man.  This shouldn’t be too difficult, as men are really into the girl-on-girl stuff.  Alternately, you can always become a nun.  They’re also pretty into the girl-on-girl stuff.

Regardless, just remember that while you are a lesbian, you are in a state of mortal sin.  I know the Bible only talks about how two dudes doing it is wrong, but we’ve extrapolated.

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on August 17, 2010 at 3:42 am
Random Thought: Teacher-student Relationships

Hello, students. This is Professor McCormick.

It has come to my attention that some rumors have been spreading about my relationship with a certain student who is enrolled in a certain Philosophy 690 course that I certainly instruct on Tuesdays and Thursdays this semester. If you have received this email, then, ostensibly, you are a student enrolled in that course.

That certain student, who for now will remain nameless, happens to be one of my best students. She is an overachiever.

Lately, some students have been posting obscene messages (all of which are 100% Malarkey) at Philosophy 690′s online discussion forum about a certain student’s “performance” in the course.

That twaddle is deplorable.

Those students who have participated in spreading rumors online, about a certain student and I “doing the dirty” in my office after class and on furlough days, will be severely punished.

As an example of how to abuse blackboard and fail Philosophy 690, here is what Gary Archibald Stevens (flunky student ID# 8686868686) had to say during yesterday’s online discussion:

“Atta way! I toootally knew you were a chill professor, Dr. McCormick. I thought (name removed) was souuuper prude. Boy, oh boy, did you prove that wrong! LOL! ROFL! LMAO! Mad props, brosef! Tell me something: how was it, doc? I didn’t think (name removed) had it in her. I really didn’t. Did you?”

That’s enough. You get the idea. Obviously, that post has nothing at all to do with yesterday’s assignment. And secondly, had Hobo Pancake’s “Grammar Hammer” worked on that thread, Archibald’s post would have been demolished. I mean, really? You don’t know how to spell “super,” Archie? Moron.

Now, I have something to say to Archibald and the other students who have been spreading claptrap about a certain student and me “doing the dirty.”

You will fail, fail, fail this course and then you will burn, burn, burn in hell. That is, if you survive until semester’s end.

Sincerely banging only my wife,

Jason Henry McCormick, Ph.D.

Hump Day Strip Tease

In Hobo Jungle on August 12, 2010 at 6:37 pm

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on August 9, 2010 at 6:36 pm
Random Thought: Drugs and Dreams

I have quit smoking drugs and stealing is wrong and so is taking drugs. It’s been over a month since my last dance with the devil. Besides prescribed medication and Advil and shit like that, smoking grass is the only drug I’ve ever done. Just a little reefer every now and then, you know? But then, only then. Not now. Not anymore. What is a drug, anyway? The dictionary on my computer says it’s “a natural or artificial substance given to treat or prevent disease or to lessen pain.” That’s pretty vague, don’t you think? Is a hot tub a drug? The warm water makes my body feel better after a long day of exercise. Is exercise a drug? Hm. I really don’t know what a drug really is.

Anyhow, I have started having dreams again. It’s pretty weird. After I quit smoking pot, I started dreaming again. It took about two weeks of sobriety before I had a dream, though. But that was like two weeks ago. Ever since then I’ve had some of the most amazing adventures of my life. Just last night I had a wonderful dream about some friends and I on a camping trip. It was great. You should’ve been there. We were singing songs by the campfire and smoking tons of reefer.

Random Thought: Contact Lenses

My eyes are itchy as hell. Yeah, I just switch ointment. It’s been a tough change for me. That’s what happens when you buy the cheap kind, I guess. But goddam it feels like my eyes are cataract for chrissake!

Hump Day Striptease!

In Hobo Jungle on August 5, 2010 at 12:30 am

Ask Papa Ratzi

In Hobo Jungle on August 3, 2010 at 6:39 pm
Dear His Holiness,

I have a crush on this girl.  And I thought she had a crush on me.  I mean, we’re friends — pretty close.  I even taught her how to fix motorcycles, and she was, like, into it.  Girls only get into fixing motorcycles because they’re trying to impress a guy, right?  Unless they’re gay.  But I’m pretty sure she’s not gay.

The problem, Father, is that she likes somebody else, and this guy sucks.  I mean, he’s super-pasty and apparently he, like, glows or sparkles or something in the sunshine, he’s so white.  He’s skinny and totally weird.  Plus, I’m pretty sure he wears eyeliner.  Oh, and he’s a “vegetarian.”  WTF is that about?  Also, his hair is poufy.  He looks like an idiot.  He is an idiot.  And my hot chick friend — let’s call her Stella — she likes this idiot!  Why, God, why??

OK, I know you’re not actually God, just his phone line to humanity, but hopefully you can still help me out.  I don’t know why a girl wouldn’t like me.  I’m athletic.  I’m young.  I’m ambiguously ethnic, but in a non-threatening way.  Old ladies stare at my abs every time I take my shirt off, and sometimes they just come up and start licking me.  It’s kinda weird when it happens in school and at the library and stuff, but I will not be constrained by a shirt, you know what I mean?  The point is, I am super hot.  And I can fix motorcycles!  I’m still a virgin, but I’m pretty sure that dudes who can fix motorcycles are stallions in the sack.  Dudes who sparkle?  Not so much.  Right?

Seriously, Pope, this is some bullshit.

Wolfishly yours,

My dear young J.,

The minds of women are simple and fickle things.  I believe it comes from lactation — the expenditure of so much cellular energy devoted to the nurturing of youth leaves little else for intellectual or spiritual pursuits.  That’s why we don’t let them be priests… duh.

But I suggest you leave behind your earthly thoughts and desires altogether.  Celibacy is the greatest expression of love for Christ that exists in this world.  Before considering the priesthood, perhaps you might join us in the One True Faith as an altar boy.  If your abdominal muscles are truly as majestic as described, I know many men of the cloth who would love to have you operating in their sacristy.

Regardless of your ultimate decision, just remember that using a condom is a mortal sin.  Gonorrhea might sting for a lifetime, but hellfire burns for eternity.

Yours in the Eucharist,
His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, formerly Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Defender of the Roman Faith

The Random Thoughts of Jason Henry McCormick

In Hobo Jungle on August 2, 2010 at 5:38 pm
Random Thought: God is either Indiana Jones or Morgan Freeman.

Indiana Jones:

Why is it that Indiana Jones chooses the old and dirty cup in that secret dungeon? It’s because Indiana Jones is God, probably.

The first guy has shit for brains, so he chooses a gold cup then he explodes. Moron. Indy is the second guy. His brain doesn’t idle. Ever. It’s because he’s sharp, see. Using his eyes, Indy watches the first guy choose poorly and explode. Now Indy is a history teacher, which comes in handy and plays a role in making his decision to choose the correct cup because Christ, a man of little or no wealth, must’ve drank from an old and dirty cup. The cup’s righteousness is obviously unfamiliar to the first guy, who doesn’t even get a chance to blush before he explodes. So Indy sips the holy water, which must taste like salt water because of his reaction. He is then blessed with immortality and, thus, is God.

Morgan Freeman:

Why do you think he played God in Bruce the Almighty? It’s because Morgan Freeman is God, too, God #2. He definitely has the voice of God; it’s euphonic and magnificent. In fact I want Morgan Freeman to tell me an endless story. Actually, it doesn’t even have to be a story. He could just say words and I’d sit on the ground with my legs crossed like a kindergartner. Any words, too, like “Joe” or “hot dog” or “green” or “Neosporin” or “lemonade” or anything just as long as I’m close enough to hear him say it. He could even just bark or do the helicopter sound with his lips and tongue if he felt like it. Morgan Freeman has the voice of the Almighty, so he must be at least half-God, too. Yup.

Random Thought: Enya Is the Shit

I love listening to Enya. Even when I’m sober and sharp like a rusty shank. Caribbean Blue is my favorite song. Oh it’s so great!