FOR THE HELL OF IT VOL. 3 NO. 4  

NEWS, OBSERVATIONS AND RANDOM THOUGHTS

Pyongyang, NK…North Korea recently demonstrated that they are ready to take their rightful place among Nations willing to screw up on a grand scale.

With the world watching with baited and – in many cases – bad breath, the North Koreans test fired a ballistic missile that they hoped would prove that they were capable of firing a ballistic missile.  They proved only that they cannot – as yet – do much better than most grade school rocket enthusiasts with a science kit, some matches and an M-80.

While the North Koreans insisted the rocket was meant to be an “earth observation satellite” every human being on the planet knew the North Koreans were really trying to see if they could send a nuke somewhere if they wanted to.  They can’t.  If they really wanted an “earth observation satellite” they will have to learn to be satisfied with Google earth.

The failed launch, which scattered debris in the Yellow Sea, was a considered a great success by North Korea’s new Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un who replaced his recently deceased father Kim Jong-il as one of the word’s highest ranking a**holes.

Beaver, PA…. Two cousins were run over by a car driven by another cousin and had to be air-lifted to a local hospital.  The cousins – two 13-year-old girls – fell asleep while sunbathing….on a road.  Their older cousin, the driver, didn’t know they were there but one assumes he found out when he heard a noticeable “thump-wahunk” sound as he drove over them.

I can only imagine the conversation the girls had in selecting this prime sunbathing spot.

“Hey, we should lay down and catch some rays.”

“Yeah – where should we lay down?  By this tree?”

“What if a bird poops on our heads while we lay there?”

“Yeah….ewwwww. That would be the worst possible thing that could happen to us while sunbathing I bet.”

“It would be the worst. How bout the pavement? It’s nice and warm.”

“What if a car –say driven by one of our cousins – runs us over while we lay here?”

“That ain’t gonna happen!  One of us will make sure not to get drowsy by the hot sun and stay awake and warn the other if a car comes.”

“Okay. You stay awake first.”

“Okay.”

“zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”

“zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”

“OW!”

“Damn!”

“We got run over by a car driven by our cousin! Were you asleep?”

“I was – were you?”

“I was.”

“I have many many broken parts.”

“Me too. But you got some nice color.”

“Really? That’s good.”

“Yep, I can’t move any body parts at all but at least we didn’t get pooped on.”

“Yep. All in all, a good day.”

Sarasota, FL... Paul and Belinda Jean Berloni were arrested in Sarasota this week for various charges all stemming from their decision to tow their 7-year-old granddaughter – dressed in her swimsuit and “driving” her plastic Hot Wheels car behind their SUV.

The child wore no protective gear, although outside of a reinforced Michelin Man tire suit, I don’t see what kind of gear could’ve saved her from grievous bodily harm.  Happily, she survived the ordeal and had a wonderful time.

The Berloni’s also had a fine time until their arrest.  Apparently they had been joy riding and drinking all day with the tot being towed along behind them…in traffic…on roads.

It’s always been my opinion that just because you can have children doesn’t mean you should have any.  These morons are the kids Grandparents so this could be evidence of a long line of genetic misfits or a statistical aberration.  Either way, how drunk do you have to be to even think this is a good call?  Personally, I have been absolutely polluted on several occasions and never once did I think: “You know what would be a great time? Pulling my niece behind my car while we drive through Chicago! Wouldn’t that be great? Somebody get me a wagon!”

The Berloni’s tied the Hot Wheels car to the bumper of their SUV using two dog leashes.  Hmmm. Dog leashes….aren’t those the things that sometimes snap and allow dogs to get free and dash about like – well – dogs?

“That’s why we used two of em!,” barfed Berloni. “We weren’t stupid about this.”

No word yet on where the Berlonis got the leashes but I can only hope they don’t own dogs.  “Hey! Lets see if Rover can water ski!”

Nutley, NJ…Patricia Krentcil, the New Jersey “tanning mom” who was accused last week of endangering the welfare of her child is no longer facing charges in the non-incident.

Sun burns on Krentcil’s 6-year-old daughter led school officials to believe that Krentcil had taken her daughter into her tanning salon and into the tanning booth.  “I would never do that to my daughter!” said Krentcil, “I tan, she doesn’t.”  Clearly.  Krentcil, 44, doesn’t look a day over 78 or even 1000 with her deep dark skin tone.  Her “healthy” complexion brings to mind JRR Tolkien’s Ents – or an antique highly burnished 4-door bureau.

Of course school officials should’ve known that sun burns frequently occur from exposure to the sun.  “We had no idea that could happen from the sun,” said one official.  “It really explains a lot – all those years I just assumed I was embarrassed for 3-month stretches at a time…hmm…who knew?”

While Krentcil beat the child endangerment rap and is likely a fine mother, she still must deal with the fact that to many Americans, she’s a wee bit off the beam.  Even tanning enthusiasts like Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi of the god awful “reality” show Jersey Shore have said of Krentcil – “that bitch is crazy!”  Normally, this column is at odds with anything Snooki says but I must admit under the “it takes one to know one” rule (1958 Supreme Court: Billy v Susie “poo poo head” ruling) Snooki may have a point.  I mean who knows crazy better than Snooki?…or bitch better than Snooki?

However Krentcil is burned up (you can’t really see it in her face but she is red with anger) over the Snooki comments and wants payback.  Showing deep wisdom, insight and a limited vocabulary Krentcil called Snooki “the biggest a**hole in the world.” She went on to say that Snooki “is fake, fat and her t*ts are fake.”  Snooki responded by saying: “hmm, fake – check.  Fat – check. Fake t*ts – check and check. Biggest a**hole in the world? I dunno, it’s a pretty big place.  I may not even be the biggest a**hole on Jersey Shore…”

Whoever turns out to be the biggest a**hole in the world, the smart money is on one of these two and it may come down to a snarling beat down between a charcoal briquette and a burnt log in a slap fest.  “When this is all said and done,” Krentcil said, “I’d like to meet up with Snoopy.”

Snoopy. Don’t you just love it?

New York, NY My House… So I’ve been getting emails of late asking me if I would like to increase my penis size.  And being a guy, I naturally say – “of course, why wouldn’t I want to upgrade to incredibly monstrous?”  (And – being a guy – I am lying.)  I am, as is well known to all and sundry, a short Irishman.  We Irish are known for our great humor and our loyalty and our gregariousness.  Even those of us commonly referred to as “black Irish” aren’t known to be especially well endowed because we’re not really black. We are really Irish but that’s it. We have dark hair and green eyes and nothing else.  So here’s the thing — how do these email guys know about my penis?  Who’s been talking?  Has someone been overheard saying: “Heller’s a decent guy.  Too bad about the penis thing…”

I don’t think so. It’s not like it’s abnormal.  It hasn’t been a bone of contention – it’s just been a bone.  Which is all I’ve ever asked of it.  It’s all anyone has ever asked of it.   Why am I getting solicited to enlarge it?  And if one could enlarge it, would one want to?  If it’s possible, why haven’t we all done it?  And  how big are they talking?  Would I be able to use it as a kickstand when I want to relax and lean on it like an un-tethered bycicle?  Would I have to be careful not to trip people with it in the gym?  Would it drag behind me like a tail?  There are many unanswered questions in these enlargement ads.

Of even more interest, assuming that this is interesting at all, is that these emails are frequently followed by emails offering me an opportunity to increase the size of my testicles?   Really?  They can do that?  I suppose if I’m getting my Johnson done, I should have matching yarbles.  If I’m going for freakish, I think it best to be uniformly freakish.  But what if one enlargement works and the other doesn’t?  What if one of my boys looks like a bean bag chair and the other like a bean?  That would be bad.  I could develop a noticeable one-sided tilt – of course I’d lean on my grossly enlarged penis so maybe no one would notice – but still…

Or what if the boys get long and not big? What if I could play hacky sack with them?  Or what if they get really big so that I’d have to walk bow legged but, on the plus side, I’d be able to sit on them if I couldn’t find a bar stool?  These are worrisome issues.

In short – and it is – I’ve decided to leave well enough – and it is – alone.

New York, NY My House again…THE LESBIAN ZOMBIE STORY

I’ve noted an alarming fascination in the body politic with lesbianism, zombies and vampires.  I don’t really understand it but I thought it worthwhile to give in to popular sentiment and write a quick zombie lesbian story.

Susan had been a lovely girl – almost stunningly attractive – depending, of course, on whether or not you’re the type easily stunned by attractiveness.  At any rate she had all the pointy things in the places there ought to have been points and all the curvy things in the places curvy things belonged and men and women both wanted to sleep with her.  (not really sleep so much as they wanted to stay awake and do dirty things to her various curvy and pointy parts).

And while Susan really used to enjoy sleeping with women – especially her BFF Sandy – she hadn’t really thought about it much in the last few days.  This was not caused by any sudden depression or deep disturbance in her inner harmony.  Her lack of sexual desire was firmly rooted in the fact that she had accidentally been exposed to radiation and had turned into a zombie.

Her only thought was to eat brains.  It wasn’t even a thought process so much as a primal urge that must be obeyed

When Susan saw Sandy – tall, lithe, sexy Sandy – she didn’t notice Sandy’s new haircut or the way her blouse stretched taut across her heaving chest as she did various chest heaving things.  She only saw Sandy as a vessel that held tasty brains.

Sandy, recognized that something was different about Susan but wasn’t sure what it was.  She began to figure it out when she opened her arms to greet her lover and instead of having her kiss returned, felt Susan’s teeth chomping on her head.  Sandy shrieked: “Oh my God! You’re a zombie!”

Susan drooled in passive acknowledgement and again went for Sandy’s brain – ignoring completely her naughty bits.

“The hell with this,” thought Sandy and she picked up a machete and cut Susan’s head clean off.

“Man,” said Susan. “I hate it when my lesbian lovers become zombies.”

The End. Or is it…