Mr. Mingus

i'm like if the guy who invented fire also invented talking a lot

[thegreatmingus]

If you drop soap in piss does the piss get clean or does the soap get dirty? Once you're done thinking that one over, lemme ask, if you drop piss ontoba bar of soap does the piss get soapy, or does the soap get pissy?

[thegreatmingus]

Jerry: I just don't see why people can't separate the art from the artist! Just because the guy making my bagel hates women, I'm supposed to not eat pizza?

Kramer bursting in: He dated a high schooler Jerry.

Jerry begins sweating. His eyes flit around rapidly, trying to find a snarky comeback or a response from George or Elaine, but they aren't here. They've left. The booth he was once sitting in has become a simple four-legged chair. The cafe and background actors have begun to fade out as well, leaving only a blank white set, expanding far into the horizon.

Kramer: He dated a high schooler Jerry.

[thegreatmingus]

if you watch 8 hours worth of television static you get a secret ending

[thegreatmingus]

My dad's been getting really mad at me for drinking a bunch of beers. I've been getting really into beers by the way. He tells me I gotta rein it in, and I get what he's saying. The bubbles aren't so good for your digestion and all that. Unless you have a tummy ache. In which case, bubbles are good. I think my grandma taught me that when I kept puking to get out of going to school because my gym teacher kept making me put on deodorant after The Boys would hose me down on the soccer field. Anywhoo he says I won't be able to go over to Todd Filligree's backyard torch party if he has to get one more call from Home Depot letting him know I'm in another trance watching the little TVs they got on the fridges.

Last week, they were showing No Country For Old Men. I hate to say it, but my old man had to drag me out of there. I was hoping to make it more of a struggle since I know mom leaving has left him feeling a bit purposeless, and old men love exerting physical dominance over their kids. My grandpa taught me that when my dad beat him at the speedbag game at the pub. It was a real shame to see how far a man could fall from grace when he pitched a skee ball at my dad's head. Regardless, it wasn't much of a struggle. He just loaded me up in the shopping cart like a little bundle of lumber. I'll be real it was honestly kind of cozy. He's such a nice dad.

[thegreatmingus]

just took a shit so crazy i forgot the sun was out

[thegreatmingus]

so my therapist, he says to me he says "file tells me you're 'bad at forming habits?'"

so i says to him, "yeah," i says, "i'm so bad at picking up habits, i can't even stick to smoking!"

[thegreatmingus]

everyone actually sweats a lot when they sleep. the people who say they don't are just plagued by a little critter who comes by at night and sops it all up with a bunch of bread and eats it

[thegreatmingus]

Mfs be like "squires these days. back in my day..." and it's just a long winded rant about wishing you could knock a squire's teeth out for grabbing the wrong size hauberk.

[thegreatmingus]

i tip my hat to all the maidens passing by not as a courtesy, but to show off my gangrenous infection that's eaten my scalp raw.

[thegreatmingus]

where do all the cowboys grind and bump uglies these days i'm trynna do a research paper

[thegreatmingus]

if a little green swamp muppet stole my granola bars and bonked my robot with a stick i would simply pummel him until he told me where to find master yoda

[thegreatmingus]

hey internet!

how smart does an animal have to be to develop a cuck fetish?

SERIOUS ANSWERS ONLY

[thegreatmingus]

me after my grandma forces me to flush my giant dump: this is america is it not? is not a man entitled to the poop of his own ass?

[thegreatmingus]

tucks you in

kisses you on head

feeds you chicken parm

wipes your slimy chin after you fall asleep

[thegreatmingus]

My dad was the philly fanatic mascot. I wish I could say I remember his face, but all I can recall from my youth is the chasm of his oblong schnozz staring down at me, scolding me because I couldn't "break it down" like he wanted me to. I'd beg him to just play catch with me, but he'd go silent in the presence of a baseball. He wouldn't say a word while I held it. He'd just do cartwheels around the yard, dancing for all the neighbors. It was an embarrassment.

All he'd ever talk to me about was being the mascot and how he couldn't wait for me to be big enough to fill his suit. I didn't want that. I never wanted that. I wanted a normal dad. I was so angry I took a bunch of his figurines of the MLB mascots from around the country, lined them up against our garage, and pretended I was executing them for their crimes against me. I buried the figurines, but he saw it all happen. He never directly addressed me ever again. He stopped turning the TV on to show me his performance that he illegally recorded onto VHS tapes so I could show my kids one day. He didn't do anything.

He died recently. Of course, it was in the suit, an undiagnosed pulmonary embolism. He was buried in the suit. I never got to see his face. I miss him though. I miss what we could have had and I wonder who's to blame for all this. I could have entertained his passion, but why should I have? He never entertained me. He entertained millions over the course of his life, but not once did he stop to try to entertain the notion of being my father.

[thegreatmingus]

I'm super behind on the rental fees for my donor prostate, and they're about to repossess it. I'll be running 2 for 1 deals on my etsy where I sell vienna sausage sculpture and rocks I found in my neighbor's pit in order to raise some money, so please share with your friends. Not to guilt my followers or nothing, but if they unplug my prostate, no more prostate-related content. So... yknow.

[thegreatmingus]

My granddaddy was an odd man. That's what everyone in the neighborhood told me. I hardly got to see him on account of him barricading himself in his cabana like some sort of wannabe Boo Radley.

The only times I did see him was when the family would have KFC night. I was tasked with delivering him all our leftover coleslaw and gravy. I'd only get a peak of him while I slid it through the mail slot.

Mostly, I just saw his thin hands, mottled grey and brown, as they jumped through the slot, the purple veins flexing as he beckoned for more. What I did see of his face made me feel sad. I could see the yellow stains in the hair around his mouth. I don't rightly know why, but I always wondered what his teeth looked like on account of me only being able to confirm that he ate coleslaw and gravy. I wasn't sure what else he ate, so I wondered if that's all he could eat.

I wasn't allowed to see him the day he died. Mama wouldn't let me on account of them finding him in the tub. Phyllis Rampert told the kids round the way that her daddy, Deputy Horris Rampert, found him in the tub covered in slaw and gravy. Said he must've been stocking it up in there for months. Mama told me not to believe in them rumors, but I still ain't touched the slaw and gravy on KFC night. I noticed she ain't either.