 | You can read "The Porking of Madame R.: An Erotic Mystery" for as low as $1. Or, for as high as $1. Click here or on the picture to go to Amazon.com, aka the Everything Store. Remember, every time you buy a copy, I get $0.35 cents. The rest goes delivery drone R&D for Jeff Bezos's master plan to annoy the hell out of humanity in 2026. Sure, it sounds cool now, but just imagine the constant whir and buzz of eight-pound drones dropping off trinkets and gadgets to building after building, all day, every day, even while you sleep, even out in the sticks. They'll get caught in trees and attacked by owls and sever cable lines when you are tying to watch Top Brownie Whisperer or whatever crap is on TV then, and you'll complain about how Amazon eliminated pretty much every job in the world aside from drone maintainance engineer, including yours, but you will secretly buy everything from Amazon yourself because, hey, they'll deliver a measly Snickers at 5 AM directly through any open window in less the time it would take to walk to CVS and for half the price. Damn. Wait, what? No, I mean: buy my book please. It's a comedy. That's all I am giving away about it. |
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 Me and Jason, iO Christmas Party 1999. See note below post The first time I ever met Jason Chin, who died yesterday at 46, was in late winter, 1999. I was 24, a student at the iO Theater where he was the at various times the official or the de facto artistic director. I had shown up to watch a Pat Shay Dancers and Deep Schwa show. (Now that I think of it, he was coach of both storied teams). Jason was the house manager that night, and though I knew him, he did not know me. I had forgotten my student ID, which would get me in for free. I waved him down and explained my situation: level one student, down on his luck, missing ID, trying to impress this girl here, etc., etc. I asked if I could be let in, like, just this once. He stared at me for a good ten seconds, shook his head, and said, “No.” And then he walked away.
I would later give him shit for this. He had no memory of it and said that it did not sound like something he’d do. I agreed, but the fact that he did do it amused me. Because Jason was the kind of guy who, 99.9% of the time, would have waved me and all of my friends in. He was warm and generous and friendly, and he loved students. Still, I like thinking of him as that first impression I had: Jason R. Chin, the merciless, take-no-shit Ice Man with a cold, cold stare. On October 12, 2004 at 8:43 p.m. Central Time a man disembarked from a plane at O'Hare International Airport carrying the most deadly virus that humanity had ever seen. He was carrying it in his bloodstream. Not, like, in a bag.
The good part was that it was very hard to transmit. Someone had to say, "Yah mo b there!" to the carrier after he said something about a grapefruit festival in Woodstock, Illinois. The virus did not care what, exactly the carrier said to prompt that reply from the other person. It could be an invitation to the festival, obviously, but it could also be a general comment about there being a grapefruit fest in Woodstock (there is not) and then the person hearing about it would have to express interest in going to it using precisely that statement. Once "the phrase that slays" was uttered, (as the evil bioscientist who concocted the virus called it), the carrier would turn an ashen gray and his eyes would fill with pus. The person who said "Yah mo b there!" would not become ill from this encounter, since it takes another two weeks for the virus to become transmittable. But once the carrier wound up at the hospital all covered in pus? Oh man, look out.  Capt. James T. Kirk: Alpha Nerd [I wrote this listicle and submitted it to a certain Men's Health magazine (not sure why I capitalized those letters there, and my backspace button is busted so I guess I have to leave it) over the summer, but I think they are still meeting about it. Here is the first of two listicles. The other one will be tomorrow, or whenever I feel like it.]
Are the Jock and the Nerd are natural enemies? Nay! ‘Tis the vilest of lies. The Jock is the Nerd’s protector, and the Nerd is the Jock’s benefactor. The next time, Jock, you blast 450 on the incline bench, know that it took a Nerd to calibrate the mass of your free weights. And next time, Nerd, you board a subway dressed as a Klingon and return unscathed to Instagram about it, trust that a Guardian Jock watched over you. In the weight room of life, one spots the other in aeternum. So let us celebrate The Brotherhood of the Jock and the Nerd with a list of work-outs worthy of us both. St. Bartholomew Catholic Church Guided by faith. Called to love. Pseudo-Volunteering Program Frequently Asked Questions What is Pseudo-Volunteering?
Pseudo-Volunteering is for people who love the spiritual satisfaction that comes from volunteering but hate the tedium of volunteering. How does it work? Each Saturday a group of pseudo-volunteers from St. Bartholomew visits the Little Sisters of the Needy Scholastic Workshop. We tutor photogenic, disadvantaged youths from 9:00 A.M. to 12:00 P.M. Oh, man. That’s way too early for me. Do you do anything on weeknights? Ladies and gentlemen, I am an alpha shark. I must swim and kill constantly—or I will die.
In 2001 a major international pizza franchise came to me and said, “Alfons, you’re a shark. We’re getting eaten alive by other pizza fishes. Help us kill again!” Within 24 hours I pitched this company—which you have definitely heard of—a concept so game changing that it would soon catapult them to the top of the pizza chain food chain: the Full House XL®. You’ve enjoyed it many times I am sure. It had a thinner crust than their pan, a thicker crust than their thin, and it was extra large. This chain now has—according to Wikipedia, a crowd-sourced internet encyclopedia that I was instrumental in launching—over 6,000 restaurants in the United States and 5,139 additional “huts” in 94 countries and territories around the world. Those numbers continue to surge every quarter, and are the direct result of the revolution effected by the Full House XL® paradigm shift. Close your eyes. All of you. Now imagine that you are me. PROFILE OF DENNIS O’TOOLE NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY CITIZEN MONITORING CORPS, SECTION 5878, GROUP K (Obtained via Freedom of Information Act request by Dennis O’Toole)  Selfie of O'Toole, night of the 2008 Plebiscite. FULL NAME: Dennis Patrick O’Toole.
OTHER ALIASES: D-Train, D-Nice, NewFridgeD, Big D, Cornish Den, D-O-T, and DenDen. PREFECTURE: Great Lakes, Urban District 7. DOB: 11/05/1974 DOD: Pending ETHNICITY: White/Caucasian GENDER: Male, though when given the opportunity to write manually on surveys that ask for “sex” instead of “gender,” O’Toole has written “Yes” each time since he was 11 years old. OCCUPATION: post-humanities-major office drone HEIGHT: 5’7” WEIGHT: 135 lbs. EYES: Protean: varies from green to blue to gray, depending on his shirt/attitude RELIGION: Leftist Roman Catholic CONFIRMATION NAME: George (rec’d 12/8/1987, Archdiocese of Chicago) POLITICAL BELIEFS: Semi-pacifistic, pro-regulatory leftist with permissive views on taxes, restrictive views on gun control, and fence-sitting views on abortion. Comprehensive voting history attached. THREAT LEVEL: MAUVE  "The Porking of Madame R.," cover. On February 2, 1922, Shakespeare and Co. of Paris sold the first copies of James Joyce's masterwork, "Ulysses."
On July 31, 2013, Amazon at last rekindled that noble endeavor: one of challenging readers, raising the bar for other writers, and pushing the very boundaries of Literature beyond what the common man thought possible. On that day, Amazon began selling the first copies of THE PORKING OF MADAME R: AN EROTIC MYSTERY. What is THE PORKING OF MADAME R? Why, it's an erotic mystery. Duh. But it is more than that. It's also a comedy, and in a way a tragedy. And yet not a tragedy. If you follow me. For just $3, you can tell your church, your family, your platoon, your law firm and your government that "I am a changed man or woman. By reading this book, I have rejected convention and spurned bourgeois morality. I am Zarathustra. Or maybe I am the Overman. I am not sure, I have not read much Nietzsche. Whatever the case, this book is awesome and all you guys in this church or platoon or law firm or wherever the hell I am should also buy a copy. It's just $3!!! Buy two."  Paris, 12 May 1780
My dear Portia, Since my Arrival this time I have driven about Paris, more than I did before. The rural Scenes around this Town are charming. The public Walks, Gardens, &c. are extreamly beautifull. Oh Man, it would be Cool if I could blow off Diplomacy and just get into the Arts over here, but the Science of Government is my Duty to study, more than all other Sciences. I must study Politicks and War that my sons may have liberty to study Mathematicks and Philosophy. My sons ought to study Mathematicks and Philosophy, Geography, natural History, Naval Architecture, navigation, Commerce and Agriculture, in order to give their Children a right to study Painting, Poetry, Musick, Architecture, Statuary, Tapestry and Porcelaine. Those Children must study Painting, Musick, Tapestry (if Tapestry is still a Thing in the Future), Porcelaine and Whatnot so that their Children might study Advertising, Marketing, Investing, Law, and Communications. That last one is certainly a bullshit Thing to study, but those Students will wind up in Law or Advertising anyway.  Cyrus Harbaugh in an 18th Century woodcut The most important thing that non-football fans must know about Super Bowl XLIII or XLV or whatever, is that the coaches of both teams are brothers. Jim Harbaugh is a former NFL quarterback, and coaches the San Francisco 49ers. The other Harbaugh, whose first name and biography I don’t know and refuse to look up, coaches the Baltimore Ravens. I will call him Cyrus.
Beyond that, I can’t tell you a lot. Ray Lewis plays for the Ravens. Not sure if he’s on defense or offense. Let’s say defense and that he will be a game changer. I don’t know the name of any other player on either team. Worse, I don’t care. Here are my predictions: Cyrus Harbaugh may not have played in the NFL (honestly, no idea) but one thing is certain: when the game is in the balance, this 6’10” behemoth will stride onto the field and play whatever position he chooses. He can bench press 1700 pounds, runs the 40 in 0.8 seconds, and once ate a StairMaster on a dare. Expect some 4th quarter theatrics when the noble Cyrus dons a Raven uniform and—in neither pads nor a helmet—subdues the 49er offense in a chilling display of raw power. The game will be at least 11 hours long. Most of that will be commercials, and man, they are going to be hilarious!  Gen. Geo. Washington, our likely Prefident PAMPHLET 69, No. 12 Addreffed to THE INHABITANTS OF AMERICA On the Interefting Subject of POLITICAL PROGNOSTICATION By Nathanial Silber Writ Upon the Ifle of Manhattan On the Sixth Day of January In the Year 1789 Tomorrow, Americans will vote for the first President of our United States. Months of Campaigning are in Abeyance, and the Election shall at last be placed into the Hands the People. However, it is fitting that, one last Time, we peer into the Entrails of this Election Season and cipher another Augury for the Future.
 W-w-w-w-what the fuck is that!?!!!??! Earlier this year I put up a show called Tales of Adventure. (Don't worry, I'm just explaining the context. It ended in May so you don't have to go anymore.) Moderately skilled improvisers read short stories based on a different theme each week. The first week's theme was horror, so in honor of Halloween and self-promotion, I am reposting this DennisOToole.com classic: the extremely scary playbill that I handed out to the audience that week. TALES OF ADVENTURE! VOLUME 1, ISSUE 1: HORROR WEEK For your diversion, we have compiled some of the most popular jokes about ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and other deadly monsters that have been passed down through the generations. Perhaps these laughs will take the sting out of what you hear tonight and the chuckles herein will help you to sleep. Perhaps… GHOULISH JOKES AND GHOSTLY RIDDLES What do you get when you cross a swamp thing and an ogre?  Below is the complete text of the program for yesterday's first-ever Tales of Adventure. Seriously. Audio of show to follow soon.
TALES OF ADVENTURE! VOLUME 1, ISSUE 1: HORROR WEEK For your diversion, we have compiled some of the most popular jokes about ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and other deadly monsters that have been passed down through the generations. Perhaps these laughs will take the sting out of what you hear tonight and the chuckles herein will help you to sleep. Perhaps… * GHOULISH JOKES AND GHOSTLY RIDDLES What do you get when you cross a swamp thing and an ogre?  Chicago, 1/20/12, intersection of North and Clybourn. Not a big deal. The word “hero” gets kicked around a lot. We say it so often that we’ve rendered the word meaningless. Rose’s Final-Second Heroics Give Bulls the Win, says the headline in the sports section. I’m gonna destroy this hero, says the hungry man using another term for a submarine sandwich. Where are my heroes!?! Wait, duh—they’re right here in my hand, says the guy having a mild stroke who meant to say “keys.” None of these people is a hero, and I am not either. I rode my bike seven miles in a snowstorm. That’s all. I did not wrestle a tiger away from a group of toddlers. I did not take the controls of a 747 after the pilot didn’t feel like landing. I did not kill Osama bin Laden. I repeat: I did not kill bin Laden. Stop asking. A memory unbidden and sudden burst into the man’s ken. He buckled over the handle of his cart as laughs and coughs poured forth in prolific tandems that ceased only when exhaustion had What’s so funny? the boy asked. Nothing, the man said. Uh, hahaha! |
About Dennis
Dennis O'Toole is an all-set cobra jet creepin' through the nighttime. He lives in Chicago. If you need to reach me, dial: denotoole AT SYMBOL gmail DOT co LETTER M. https://twitter.com/deeohtee Categories
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