The Last Word

Issue #492

September 2015

Our Annual Back-to-School Issue!
How cool people roadtrip at Isle Royale
How do cool people like us roadtrip at Isle Royale National Park in Michigan? We don’t. That’s because
Isle Royale has no roads!
But we coolsters do roadtrip to and from Isle Royale, and that’s exactly what we did from August 26 to
30! Celebrity look-alikes were seen, soil was smelt, and fun was had, and it all began that Wednesday as we
bipped northwest. A Chili’s in Greensburg, Indiana, had pee on the floor in the restroom. A disappointingly small
amount, to be sure, but it was there.
Thursday was better. A rest stop near Minong, Wisconsin, not only had urine on the floor, but someone
had put a reusable (possibly souvenir) drinking cup from a fast food restaurant in the toilet. A disappointingly
small plopping, to be sure, but it was there. Here’s a photo of a funny sign inside the stall...

Don’t put anything in the toilet except toilet paper? What about...poop?! Since the sign said not to put
things other than toilet paper down the toilet, maybe they meant for feces to go on the toilet or to magically hover
above the toilet in midair. Notice also that the sign warned people to take their garbage with them instead of

plopping it. However, rest stops in Wisconsin do not have garbage cans, after Tommy Thompson inexplicably
removed them. So, sorry Tommy, there’s gonna be ploppings.
Friday was a downright spectacle, since that’s when we visited Isle Royale. The park is a wilderness
accessible only by boat. On the boat over there, we saw some guy who strongly resembled James Stockdale, a
famous naval officer who became Ross Perot’s running mate. There was another celebrity look-alike at the park
itself: One of the rangers there resembled Sarah Silverman.
After leaving Isle Royale, we lodged at a motel in Eagan, Minnesota. It was quite entertaining, as the
toilet there was clogged the whole time. The Gerber didn’t gerb! (This was the same town where a guy clogged
the entire sewer system by flushing nails down toilets at transit stations and restaurants.) The following morning, I
witnessed a parsimonious oaf stealing bananas from the breakfast room. He hoarded bananas by stuffing them
into his pants pockets as he loitered outside the hotel. You can’t do that—because it ain’t a store! (That’s an inside
joke. I spent big money just to hear that joke, and dammit, I’m gonna use it!)
At lunch on Saturday, one of our crew swallowed a tine from a plastic fork at a Culver’s in Hiawatha,
Iowa. Later, at a Pilot station in Walcott, Iowa, the bathroom smelled so thoroughly of dookie-stinks that I
couldn’t stand to be in there very long. Also, I noticed someone wrote “FUCK OBAMA” on the wall. At dinner at
a Smokey Bones restaurant in Springfield, Illinois, I saw someone who strongly resembled actor-turnedcongressman Ben Jones, best known as Cooter on The Dukes Of Hazzard.
Sunday was almost a ruin, courtesy of a sinus infection—though this affliction was flushed away by a
spicy lunch. I got home that evening, and the sinus infection returned the following day, because of course it did.
So that’s the story of the Isle Royale trip we paid for.

Not-so-instant karma’s gonna get you...
Not-so-instant karma’s gonna get you. It’s gonna bean you right on your pointy noggin!
And it got a former neighbor of mine. I know I’ve mentioned in either these pages or in one of my books
that I had a neighbor about 8 years ago who was linked with the destructment of my lawn chair that I kept on the
front porch. Either she completely smashed my lawn chair for no apparent reason, or her boyfriend who
frequently visited did it. She is still the worst neighbor I’ve had in the 18 years I’ve lived in this apartment. A
nasty, nasty individual through and through. She was the type who’d start trouble just for its own sake.
Guess what? A few days ago, I was on Facebook, and I stumbled upon a whine she posted on a local
Facepoo group. According to her, someone stole the pillows for her porch chairs at the house where she lives now.
One, two, three: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWW!!!

Farts elicit funny sayings
Since this is our annual Back-to-School ish, it’s time once again to discuss that tinpot dictatorship known
as Bishop Brossart High School.
When I attended school there, the place was becoming an opium den. People like to complain on the
Internet about their high school because “kids burn trash cans in the bathroom”, but that was the least of
Brossart’s problems.
And people farted. A lot.
Around that time, there was a radio commercial for Jerry’s restaurants in which a man declared that in his
day, “Momma cooked up a storm.” Then, one day in
sophomore English class, someone kept loudly passing gas.
In response to these hilarious bunker blasts, a student raised
his hand and said to the teacher, “He’s back here fartin’ up a
storm!” I burst out laughing at this Jerry’s-derived expression.
It wasn’t every day you heard flatulence described in such a
folksy, down-home way.
The Jerry’s commercial was the same one where the
man sang, “Please don’t take my Jerry’s sandwich away.” I
always thought that line was uproarious, for it evoked an
image of a big, burly man getting his sandwich taken away by
his mommy because he played with his food at the dinner
table.
That wasn’t the only time people released air biscuits
at Bro$$art. Imagine that! One day, a male student cracked a
loud trouser sneeze in class. Then a girl in our class warned

him, “You’re gonna ruin your butthole.”
It’s actually unlikely that excessive backdoor breezes would result in a ruined butthole. Ruined butthole is
not a condition that has many references in medical journals.
It sounds like something Ted Nugent would have made up to
avoid getting drafted.
Brossart. Where it pays to goof off!

Someone put fake poop on a
teacher’s chair
Someone put a fake piece of shit on my homeroom
teacher’s chair in 8th grade. It was funny.
One day we had recess indoors because the weather
was bad as usual. The homeroom teacher was a somewhat
portly, balding, middle-aged dude. Much mischief was to be
had. That meant the usual breaking stuff.
But one of my school pals had a little surprise up his
sleeve. He had brung in a pile of plastic feces. It looked like
the real thing. It was many shades of brown and looked so
thick and creamy that you could dig into it with a spoon. (But
you wouldn’t want to!)
He kept boasting that he was going to put it on the
teacher’s chair. Finally, he stopped talking and took action!
When nobody was looking, he grabbed the fake shit, placed it on the teacher’s chair, and slid the chair back under
the teacher’s desk where it belonged.
The suspense was starting to mount! How will the teacher react when he sees his seat poopified?
A few minutes later, the teacher arrived back in the classroom. The student was standing next to the
instructor’s desk to see the big show.
But it was a letdown. The teacher seemed to know something was amiss. He simply pulled his chair out
from under his desk, pointed at the false grogan, and—in a frustrated tone—asked the student, “What the hell is
this?”
Gee, it looks like a fake turd to me!
The fake piece of shit will live forever.

Campbell County has a bubble gum bandit
Only a few small houses away from my digs rests the Family Dollar store in Dayton, Kentucky.
A strange thing, that Family Dollar is. I’m no Family Dullard fan, but this chain of stores is everywhere.
There seems to be a Family Dollar on every street corner in the area. But in my opinion, this store chain can crap
its pants.
Anystink, a few days ago, I happened
upon the Facebook page for the Dayton Police
Department. The cops were asking for the people’s
help in identifying a male who was stealing
gumball machines from stores throughout
Campbell County—including but not limited to
the Dayton Family Dollar.
In Campbell County, we have 4 food
groups: Bubble Yum, Bubblicious, Dubble
Bubble, and Bazooka. Still, that guy seemed to
love bubble gum a great deal more than the
average local resident. Probably even bubbled!
People wondered in public how he could
have kept walking out of stores carrying gumball
machines without being noticed—unless he
concealed the gumball machines under a cloak of
invisibility. Like they regularly do in Dungeons &
Dragons.

Police later said he was identified. He was probably seen blowing a huge bubble, and that’s probably how
they caught him.
The funniest part about this? The judge is probably gonna say “bubble gum.”
The next issue of this electrifying publication will be dated November. It’s free like pee, so deal
with it.
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