When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops
When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops
Copyright 2004 Comedy Concepts, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the Publisher. Princed in the United States of America. For infoimation address Hyperion, 77 West 66th Street, New Yoik, New York 10023-6298.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data ISBN 1-4013-0134-7
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1 IRST EDITION
This book is dedicated to my amazing daughter, Kelly: keeper of the sacred DNA, citizen of the universe, and one of America’s few really good Buddhist poker players.
Major funding for this book was made possible by deliberately starving a family of four in Tennessee.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Everlasting thanks to my editor, Gretchen Young, who withstood a last barrage of changes and pulled everything together. She also did an outstanding job protecting me from certain evil people in the publishing company who were jealous of my nice teeth and never stopped plotting against me.
All love to my troll-mate, the sweet Sara Jane.
uOf course the people don’t want war. But after all, it’s the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it’s always a simple matter to drag the people along whether it’s a democracy, a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism, and exposing the country to greater danger.”
HERMANN GORING AT THE NUREMBERG TRIALS
“All tears are the same.”
IRISH WOMAN
uSo little time. So little to do.”
OSCAR LEVANT
“The main obligation is to amuse yourself.”
S. J. PERELMAN
“Today his another day. Time to play.”
SALLY WADE
PREFACE
I’m an outsider by choice, but not truly. It’s the unpleasantness of the system that keeps me out. I’d rather be in, in a good system. That’s where my discontent comes from: being forced to choose to stay outside.
My advice: Just keep movin’ straight ahead. Every now and then you find yourself in a different place.
George’s Holiday Message
Since this book comes out in the fall, I’d like to take advantage of this early opportunity to wish all of you an enjoyable Christmas season and a happy New Year filled with good fortune. Of course, I realize this can’t happen for everyone. Some of you are going to die next year, and others will be crippled and maimed in accidents, perhaps even completely paralyzed. Still others will be stricken with diseases that can’t be cured, or will be horribly scarred in fires. And let’s not forget the robberies and rapesthere’ll be lots of them. Therefore, many of you will not get to enjoy the happy and fortunate New Year I’m wishing for you. So just try to do the best you can.
A Note of Appreciation
FROM THE DESK OF:
-sS
SPOT WADE
On the occasion of the publication of his new book, When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?, I want to wish the author good luck and let the readers know that as my rep and personal assistant hired to deny rumors of my marriage and subsequent same-sex divorce to Sir Elton Johns dog, Arthur, and how now I’m an expectant dadGeorge Carlin was easy to woik with and followed instructions wellalthough he was often tardy, with lame excuses like “other things to do.”
Similar to that of a cocker spaniel, who wants nothing’ more than our complete and undivided attention, his personality is pleasant, well-tolerated, and meets with my approvalexcept for the time when, like Jesus, he forgot to bi ing the pork chops. But now’s not the time to dwell on food. Well. . . maybe it is.
At any rate, I’m proud that one of my employeesespecially you, Mr. Carlinhas demonstrated that you’re more than just a flash in the pan, as is so often the case with seared tuna. And by the wayas long as were still talkin’ about foodregardin’ Jesus bringin’ the pork chops, lemme know when they finally arrive. Well cat them religiously, and enjoy a fine glass of
wine.
What are you lookin’ at?
him
WHEN WILL
JESUS
BRING THE PORK CHOPS?
A MODERN MAN
I’m a modern man, digital and smoke-free; a man for the millennium.
A diversified, multicultural,
post-modern deconstructionist;
politically, anatomically and ecologically incorrect.
I’ve been uplinked and downloaded, I’ve been inputted and outsourced. I know the upside of downsizing, I know the downside of upgrading.
I’m a high-tech lowlife.
A cutting-edge, state-ofthe-art,
bi-coastal multi-tasker,
and I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.
I’m new-wave, but I’m old-school; and my inner child is outward-bound.
I’m a hot-wired, heat-seeking, warm-hearted cool customer; voice-activated and biodegradable.
I interface with my database;
my database is in cyberspace;
so I’m interactive, I’m hyperactive,
and from time to time I’m radioactive.
Behind the eight ball, ahead of the curve, ridin’ the wave, dodgin the bullet, pushin’ the envelope.
I’m on point, on task, on message, and off drugs.
I’ve got no need for coke and speed; I’ve got no urge to binge and purge.
I’m in the moment, on the edge, over the top, but under the radar.
A high-concept, low-profile, medium-range ballistic missionary.
A street-wise smart bomb. A top-gun bottom-feeder.
I wear power ties, I tell power lies, I take power naps, I run victory laps.
I’m a totally ongoing, big-foot, slam-dunk rainmaker with a pro-active outreach.
A raging workaholic, a working rageaholic; out of rehab and in denial.
I’ve got a personal trainer, a personal shopper, a personal assistant, and a personal agenda.
You can’t shut me up; you cant dumb me down.
Cause I’m tireless, and I’m wireless. Fm an alpha-male on beta-blockers.
I’m a nonbeliever, I’m an overachiever; Laid-back and fashion-forward. Up-front, down-home; low-rent, high-maintenance.
I’m super-sized, long-lasting, high-definition, fast-acting, oven-ready and built to last.
A hands-on, footloose, knee-jerk head case;
prematurely posttraumatic,
and I have a love child who sends me hate-mail
But Tm feeling, I’m caring, I’m healing, I’m sharing. A supportive, bonding, nurturing primary-care giver.
My output is down, but my income is up. I take a short position on the long bond, and my revenue stream has its own cash flow.
I read junk mail, I eat junk food,
I buy junk bonds, I watch trash sports.
I’m gender-specific, capital-intensive, user-friendly and lactose-intolerant.
I like rough sex; I like tough love. I use the f-word in my email. And the software on my hard drive is hard-coreno soft porn.
I bought a microwave at a mini-mall. I bought a mini-van at a mega-store. I eat fast food in the slow lane.
I’m toll-free, bite-size, ready-to-wear, and I come in all sizes.
A fully equipped, factory-authorized, hospital-tested, clinically proven, scientifically formulated medical miracle.
I’ve been pre-washed, pre-cooked, preheated, pre-screened, pie-approved, prepackaged, post-dated, freeze-dried, double-wrapped and vacuum-packed.
And … I have unlimited broadband capacity.
I’m a rude dude, but I’m the real deal. Lean and mean.
Cocked, locked and ready to rock; rough, tough and hard to bluff.
I take it slow, I go with the flow;
I ride with the tide, I’ve got glide in my stride.