I Prefer Tortillas Over Bread On My Space Flights Because I Don't Want Crumbs Flying Around The Cabin

Being an astronaut can be a very discouraging job.  I wake up literally every morning with a horribly painful erection that, due to strict NASA regulations (brought fourth when they were purchased by Caumcast), I am not to touch, poke or even glance upon--lest it distract me from my mission, which is making adjustments to an unstable Caumcast satellite (so the citizenry of earth may watch Sugar Foo Foo, the child bride).  As a result, I am left feeling much like a Mormon boy, letting semen accumulate inside my bowels until I have a gallon of "milk" sloshing around in there.  Milk that is left to sit and fester, much like my mood.  Not being able to release myself is not only a boondoggling psychological strain but a physiological one as well.  At the very best I have, quite literally, a single american gallon of semen inside my body that I have to try to ignore.  At the very worst, I have that gallon of white butter PLUS a painfully hard erection (generally in the morning and afternoon hours or whenever I look upon my co-pilot Barbara, a normally unfortunate looking woman that I am now lusting furiously over due to my lack of options).

Forced Expulsion of Unwanted Feelings

"Upon denim contact, I felt as if I had to forcibly expel my internal organs through my anus in order to prevent the sacred feelings from travelling down to my pringle." -Hazzard Maplewood, Formerly Jailed Denim Contact Addict

Ever since brother Maplewood has been attending services here at Christian LordGod's Kingdom, I've had a funny feeling about him. It all started at the casserole feast last Friday. I was standing next to brother Maplewood in the chow line when, during light conversation, he explained that he had recently disposed of his denim collection due to "general dislike of the fabric." I found it to be an odd thing to say to someone, especially after buying so many pairs of pants before suddenly deciding to get rid of them. I asked him what influenced him to make such a decision and he suddenly thrust his entire hand deep into the bean and liver glorch casserole, perhaps in an attempt to distract me from my line of questioning. He proceeded to grab a giant hunk of food and slap in on his paper plate before rushing further down the line while wincing quietly. I caught up with him near the melted ham gelatin mound and asked him if he'd like to speak privately with me in my office. That's when things got strange. As Hazzard's eyes turned up from the buffet table and met mine, I could see that he had begun to sweat profusely. His face was drenched in sweat droplets. In fact, his white T-shirt was so covered in sweat that it looked like an extra layer of skin. That's when he began to speak. "Pester Chad, I am a cold and moistened spirit. Let me dine upon his sludge in relative peace." That's when Hazzard slunked off to the corner of the room, in a dark corner to eat alone. Just then, I noticed brother Jinker and his son tiny Ed walk over and sit next to him. Little Ed waved to Hazzard and asked if he could sit with him. Hazzard nodded hesitantly and Ed crawled up on his lap and begin to snuggle with him. That's when a look of inexplicable horror came upon Hazzard's face. He began to writhe in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and baring his teeth in an expression of pure agony. That's when Jinker noticed the scene and asked Hazzard what was wrong. Hazzard opened his eyes and pointed at little Ed's jeans. Jinker then grabbed little Ed and removed him from Hazzard's lap area. By then, the entire congregation had taken notice. Hazzard began to suck deep breaths of oxygen, his cotton pants soaked completely through in sweat. Once it was clear his situation was made public, Hazzard stood up in embarrassment with his head hung low. He looked to the crowd and in a booming voice, he screamed "I was protecting the boy from my tingle zone!" And ran full speed through the exit doors.

That was the last time I ever saw brother Maplewood at church services. I did, however see him downtown a month afterward. He was wearing a jean jacket, a jean baseball cap a jean undershirt and a jean necklace. He was sleeping inside of a sleeping bag made from stonewashed denim, right on the steps of the courthouse. Though I didn't bother waking him up, I wished him well in a silent prayer.

 Head Pester Chad Trinkle
 Christian LordGod's Kingdom Church Facility
 Boarflesh, North Carolina

Thunderjack Rogers: A Frustrating Truth Revealed

The following are a series of compiled quotes from "A Frustrating Truth Revealed," the long-awaited memoir by Thunderjack Rogers, a legendary Vietnam War vet, warm chicken meal eater and public bathroom expert.

"Back in Vietnam, a few of the boys used to call me 'Tussles.' I didn't like that nickname so I shot them and I told my commanding officer that the enemy shot them." -Thunderjack Rogers, on his wedding day

"To my knowledge, I was the only man who fought the entire war with a skin tight full-body leather outfit under my military fatigues. Whenever I felt that I was gaining stiffness in my front zone, I unzipped my fly and let my jorkus out for a fresh breath of air. It just so happened that I let it out once when I was standing over Private First Class Tinky, who was only 18 at the time. I was tired from doing so much war stuff so I had to take knee. Coincidentally, my skin column was right near his mouth when my platoon happened by. It was frustrating that they felt they had to take the whole event out of context and call me a male lust ranger. It is simply not true. I am a hardened American Male and I love women only."

"In 1987, when musical act Styx were becoming popular on the radio I decided to grow my hair out to match the way they looked. It also happened to be rather bright outside one day and I didn't have my sunglasses so I borrowed a pair of my wife's. I ended up wearing them every day because they felt comfortable on my face. I also got full breast implants so I could sleep more comfortably on my stomach at night. Many people said I did those things because I like men but they are telling lies. I am a red-blooded woman-lover and I am a trained military guy. I don't believe men and men should be more than just good friends."

"He came to me in a dream once when I was on my first tour in Vietnam. In the dream, was standing near the bank of the Ten'Chau river. He was naked and crawling towards me on all fours at an implausible rate. I was standing near the tree-line, also fully nude. We were both fully aroused and already on the precipice of ejaculation when we made physical contact. Just then I awoke with the front of my combat jeans soiled from reproductive matter. I was holding a small American flag in one hand and a 9mm pistol in the other. I remember feeling a sense of ease that my body had finally rejected those unwanted feelings."

"It wasn't five minutes after my first tour in Vietnam that I met Grover Allens, a young man of 19. He said he needed financial help and that he was lonely and in need of firm companionship. I had just received war money and I felt like I was able to help. After I cashed my check, he took me back to his apartment on 131st where we both removed our clothing. I was very hot from the summer sun so I hung mine up to dry and only for that reason. He began to tickle my beard and refer to me as 'Muffins.' I was able to suppress my violent urges and told him that I didn't appreciate the nickname and that he only refer to me as Thunderjack, the name my father wanted me to embody. He told me not to be so sensitive. He then placed the tips of his fingers gently on the back of my neck as I faced his window. He ran them down the back of my spine until he reached my dark crevice."

"My life changed forever when I had my first son. Only a few hours after the birth, my wife Stacy and I began to discuss baby names. She suggested we should name him John. I stood firm on naming him Tipples. As our conversation wore on, I could feel the tensions rising between my wife and I. After refusing to budge on my name choice, she claimed that Tipples sounded 'homo-erotic' and threatened to call my father to tell him about my alleged secret tender feelings towards other men. That's when I lost my temper and flipped her hospital bed over and jumped out the 3 story window, landing feet first on my mother in Law, Barbara."

"Life finally calmed down for me in the Summer of 1994. I spent that whole season lounging around in a pair of pastel underwear at the local Sauna, making great conversation with new friends I made. Many of them had small, small mustaches and tiny haircuts. Some of them liked to tickle my chest and pat at my round bobbers."