'Snow Bill' (BP091211-173861)Ha!
"Marvel at my dickmanship, ladies!", proclaims Lumberjack Bill.
Don't you wish you could do that?
Had to dot the 'i' with spit, though: didn't want to muss the composition. What prowess. Can anyone believe Lumberjack Bill never went into show business with talent like that?!
Sometimes Lumberjack Bill even surprises himself!
"Marvel at my dickmanship, ladies!", proclaims Lumberjack Bill.
Don't you wish you could do that?
Had to dot the 'i' with spit, though: didn't want to muss the composition. What prowess. Can anyone believe Lumberjack Bill never went into show business with talent like that?!
Sometimes Lumberjack Bill even surprises himself!
That is quite impressive. One for the demo reel, for sure.
ReplyDeleteThat's right. I gots ta start me a demo reel.
ReplyDeleteNext stop Vegas!!
But as a comic in all seriousness, this be a throwdown to any hommies who thinks they gots da chit to lamb on de tables.
I remember as a kid trying to show up the other guys with the snow signature prowess. Funny to remember that now....
Am I going into relapse?
A "relapse" would suggest that snow signing is an illness of some sort, but it's not. It's a complex genetic talent that lives in the hearts and bladders of all men.
ReplyDeleteI Still Write Your Name in the Snow
I gotta be strong here and see Katrocket's superior wisdom and humour ways not as a challenge, but as a spur a greater humour myself.
ReplyDeleteEven the link is funnier than my whole bit....
you must be able to muster up quite a bit of spit there Bill. Impressive.
ReplyDeleteGood enough for the girls I go out with, Myra.
ReplyDeleteI didn't know how much my spitting accuracy skills would come in handy until I was in the hospital one time. You might appreciate this, Myra....
Back in '96 I was in a Vancouver hospital room with three other basket cases after my chopper got t-boned by a minivan and got dragged under it by my head for about 100 feet. I walked again after a year, but still have the occasional limp.
So this old guy was in the bed next to me - about eight feet away - and he's groaning and moaning and agonizing aloud non-stop. It's helping to drive me crazy because I know he can control the noise coming out of his pie hole, and I've warned him again and again and again to shutthefuckup!, but he just goes on and on.
But I can't get up to strangle and kill the guy - as I would like to - because my leg is mangled and has to stay horizontal. You know how it is, Myra.
So, how was I gonna get to this guy? And looking at the glass of ice water on the bed table in front of me, I had an inspiration. All of those practice sessions of spewing a stream of water against the wall while having a shower came into focus.
I shouted at the geezer, "Hey, Fucko!"
He opened an eye, his face toward me on the pillow. Then I took a gulp of ice water into my mouth and shot a magic stream right into his face.
That shut him up.
"One more sound out of you and you're a dead man", said I. And that's the last I heard from him.
A short time later I had an audience with the head nurse, then the head shrinker and got my own room within the hour. I was willing to pay extra.
A happy outcome as no one was really hurt, I think. And goes to show the benefits of spitting practice.
Come to think of it, I remember somebody spitting in my face during a knife-fighting session to disorient me. That was pretty good too, but now I'm just rambling on.
Holy Crow! That is funny story, I could barely stay on my chair, You seemed such a quiet, polite man when I met you little did I know you're vegence aimed at old noisy people. Watch that fire for you winter soltise, you may be conjurning up mad pissed off old man who want to seek revenge on you. : )
ReplyDelete