Like most people these days, I’ve been locked indoors too long. To pass the time, I have been watching a lot of foreign films on Netflix and Amazon without subtitles. I just assume I know the language and imagine my own dialogue. I wonder what a subtitled porno would be like. “Hey! Don’t put that in there! Yeah, that’s probably going to make you nauseous. Gross.” She is going to get a sunburn being outside like that.
Someday, I would like to be a spy, except I think a prerequisite is that you have to know how to whistle. Note to self: learn how to whistle.
Roger Moore was in his fifties when he played James Bond. Imagine James Bond as an actual middle aged fat guy, trying to bone the hot chick, but she’s totally not into his alcohol fueled shenanigans. Earlier that day, he really wanted to chase after the bad guy who stole his brief case full of soiled underwear (I assume that is what a brief case is for, carrying briefs), but he was too tired and fat, and his thighs chafed painfully when he ran. Sweaty and severely winded, he decided not to pursue the temptress. She could wait until morning, after pancakes and those delightful breakfast sausages. The complementary buffet at the hotel is very easy on his per diem. He is, after all, a civil servant on Her Majesty’s civil service, and though Christmas may come only once a year, Friday comes once a week.
Jimmy cracked corn, but I don’t care. No, the news about Jimmy and the corn cracking incident doesn’t interest me in the least.
Dammit, Jim! I’m a doctor, not a toilet! Stop shitting in my mouth! Or at least stop dunking your balls in there.
When we were kids, it was better to be older. Waxing wise, pontificating playground piety. Now that I am older, it was better being younger.
Either do or don’t do; there is no undo… but there is a delete. It looks like a garbage can.
Do electric sheep have long extension cords, or are they mostly solar powered?
I once stole drugs from a hospital. Unfortunately, they were a bunch of epidural kits. My wife and I take turns numbing each other from the waste down, forgetting how to walk. Not as great as I was hoping for.
The poor mans bidet: a super soaker mounted in the toilet. Get the aim right.
In a murder-suicide situation, you have to commit the murder, first. Don’t mess that part up, unless you want to look like an idiot.
Terminator arrives in Canada. “Give me your coat, your boots, your hat, and your mittens.” Then he takes the guy’s Ski-Doo.
There’s a movie with a guy in it. He has a tattoo on his back that reads, “The spare house key is under the doormat next to the garage.” I don’t know who the reminder is for. His cat.
That’s it, that’s all I’ve got. Enjoy your plague and riots! Be safe, don’t get AIDS. Remember when we worried about getting AIDS? Good times.
—DG.
Inside Doug's Head 