I like the shirts they are pretty freakin funny. They would probably be even better if you got some play every now and then. It's just a thought. - Dave
These shirts are awesome! My roomates and I love them. We know we would be able to pick up alot of chicks wearing these. We definetley need the help. - Mac Daddy
I accidentally stumbled on this site. And boy are my ankles swollen. Your shirts are by far the most clever and original shirts online. I fancy myself as a comic writer, you wouldn't by any chance be hiring, would you? I'll drop you a line through your contacts page. Oh, so there is nothing between us, I have red hair. Is that going to be a problem? My stepmother thought so, that's why I was beaten like a mangy puppy that urinates in the soup. I'll hollar atcha.
This website is crazy. The about us page is the wittiest I have ever seen. I agree that Gary Larson would be proud of those comics. They are hilarious... along with the T-shirts. These T-Shirts are the perfect uniform for any college student. This Jarod Kintz guy is true comic GENIUS! -Lauren Zimpel
These are the funniest T-Shirts online. The one about the Thorsome is hilarious. Man will I get some crazy looks wearing these. I can't wait to see what my friends have to say. -Tiffany
Jarod, whoever you are man you have the right idea, Sex IS like business...better with multiple partners! That shirt is crazy! I can't wait to wear it. This website is hot. Steven
I love this website, it is awesome! The girls shirts are so cute. I love the " I drink therefore I am." The crazy one about the spooning is cool too. -Chelsea
Seeing the wit in your shirts has caused me to reflect on my life and realize that its all been a lie. So while I wear "make glove to me" I will take my own life.
Yo, you guys seem nutz. Do you guys have any plans for future flash mob evenys? I bet you guys could come up with some wicked crazy flash mob madness. You guys could do the first ever Florida flash mob. If you do, let me know, I'm on your email list. -Robert
I think that this website rocks! The shirts are funny and so are the comics. I love the "Secks, Secks and Moore Secks..." but all of them are great! Allison
I love the website. I read your comment about writing a humor book. Let me know more about it. I am sure it is just as crazy and funny as your T-Shirts. Let me know.
Great shirts. My friends and I love them. We love walking in some place and having people laugh at us. So these shirts are perfect for us. They are crazy.
Jarod Kintz you truly are an incredible guy. Smart, witty and extremely intelligent. Plus you are by far the funniest guy within fifty feet of me, at least! Keep the shirts and comics coming, they are the best I have ever seen! No one can top your stuff, it is comic genius. You are the next Larson. Niggelsby
What an awesome site! My girls and I love it. The comics and the shirts are so funny! We love to wear these shirts out, especially " Luck Off". Can we still wear that if we aren't Irish?
Little old lady tires of going topless. 2000 Mustang convertable. Fully loaded like Ted Kennedy. V8, white leather interior, power everything, great sound system, cherry red, garage kept, flawless condition. -Jarod Kintz
-Man wants woman to produce, woman gives birth to healthy head of lettuce. -Garbage man finds girlfriend in trash can, dumps her anyway. -A man with fish for hands gets caught stealing in Saudia Arabia, gets hand cut off. He cooks it and says it tastes great with a splash of lemon. -Man eats cereal out of public toilet bowls. Stench reminds him of boyhood breakfasts in Kentucky. -Jarod Kintz
Time passes so quickly in a cryogenic freezer. And the breainfreeze is like a thousand nails driven into a single point in time, twenty years ago that has acrueing pain, like interest at a bank where the teller has a shrill voice and nasty jagged teeth. And let's not even talk about the shrinkage factor. Talk about a wrinkle in time. -Jarod Kintz
I used to own a magic carpet, but I got air sick and threw up all over it. And when I took it to my dry cleaners, they immediately jumped on and flew back to Calcutta. And that's how I came to outsource my drycleaning to India. -Jarod Kintz
I like to party with no pants. Then when I start drinking I really get crazy. I have been known to throw on a pair of sweatpants now and again. But those are the nights I can barely remember my name, let alone the second paragraph of the Magna Carta. -Jarod Kintz
I always wear a jacket when it is hot outside. So that if a blizzard comes from out of nowhere, I am prepared. I also carry a bazooka. In case the abominal snowman comes with it.
His hands were as pale as a bucket of water. The room was as vast as a vase, but the flowers were wilted and worn with worry. Are you trying to tell her something with your hands? Because you don't have to shout. He got married in a blender. Now his other half is in a glass that's half empty. His voice was mumbled, his fists were clenched, his forehead drenched, like a soldier, scared and trenched. Yet he marched on, down that aisle, not only ending his life, but also that of his young, lovely wife. -Jarod Kintz
This poem evokes such a feeling of sadness you actually hurt for the young woman. The man knows he shouldnt go through with it, nerves are normal but what this man is feeling is unnatural. The feeling of sadness and darkness would be depressing if it wasn't so refreshing to actually feel something after reading a poem.
I choose to sit on the floor. I don't want to bother the lonely old wooden chair. It has been silent for months now. I am quiet, waiting to hear what rests heavy on its lumbering mind. -Jarod Kintz
As wind waddles through the trees, our goodbyes are exchanging like the leaves. I bid you sayonara, sweet, boisterous breeze. Can I see you next summer? Can I please? -Jarod Kintz
As I sit up on this rock, eaglelike, with a cigarette dangling like a worm from my mouth, the world seems clear. Clear as the river below. Right now anything is possible, even flight. I hurl myself against the force of gravity, and enjoy the freedoms of a bird while they last. -Jarod Kintz
I met a floozy named Fluellen, who used to be a Frank about two years back and two states over. But hey, I'm not one to judge. I just count my blessings on my toes as I shuffle a deck of cards with my teeth. -Jarod Kintz
The clown was furious, and I watched as the sweat dripped off his big, red, alcoholic nose onto his big, red, shiny shoes. My eye twitched as I saw his trigger finger flinch underneath that deadly pie of his. -Jarod Kintz
We made love for what seemed like eternity, but was, in fact, only minutes, as the power cut off and the alarm clock was blinking in orgasmic rhythm. At least somebody got off, then turned back on. -Jarod Kintz
Like two bunnies we theater hopped, until Sally knocked over the popcorn and i was ushered out of the movie by the manager for exposing myself. -Jarod Kintz
His hands were as pale as a bucket of water. He cracked his knuckles like disobedient peanuts. The room was as vast as a vase, but the flowers were wilted and worn with worry. Are you trying to tell her something with your hands? Because you don't have to shout. He got married in a blender. Now his other half is in a glass that's half empty. His voice was mumbled, his fists were clenched, his forehead drenched, like a soldier, scared and trenched. Yet he marched on, down that aisle, not only ending his life, but also that of his young, lovely wife. -Jarod Kintz
RoRoUrBoat, My boss makes it through the day on his raft. I work for a canoe and used boat store. We mostly sell cars, but occassionally we rent out furniture. Well, we just leased out my boss' desk because he doesn't actually do much work. I just pray that one day (tomorrow) he gets eaten by a shark. I keep lacing the underbelly of his raft with fish guts and spagetti sauce. So far the only thing that's attacked him are the homeless men who hang out on San Jose Blvd. They ruffed him up pretty good. And they were cheap too. -Jarod Kintz P.S. Do you have a blonde wig you can bring to our rendezvous? Because I have a thing for red heads. I'll steal my boss' raft. We can sail away to France. They say Berlin is nice this time of year. Plus, the French make lots of great cheese, and they wine a lot too.
RoRoUrBoat, Why haven't you responded? I've waited for nearly half a minute. I'm so lonely. I have no cheese, and no gas to run up to the store to buy some more. I think I'll take Mr. Fizzlebush and ride him up to Wal-Mart and find me a quality checkout girl to gorge myself on cheese with. If you respond quickly you might be able to catch me before I get out of the door. I'll wait a minute. -Jarod Kintz
RoRoUrBoat, I just got back from Wal-Mart. I ate some cheese. I also ate the fat checkout girl. I think I have a new favorite food. Have you ever noticed how poverty has a certain stench? Smells kind of like moldy cheese and old feet. I'm making myself hungry again. -Jarod Kintz
If you are what you eat, and you eat nothing, do you cease to exist? I think so. I think Descartes should have said, I eat, therefore I am. And logically, I ate, therefore I was. Then if you eat your children, you become them and can then live on forever, assuming you are not bulimic. Like the cow who eats the grass, when he is dead and decomposed, he becomes the grass. I need to become a babysitter. -Jarod Kintz
In my last short story, the protagonist's name was B.J. because he really brought me to my knees. But sometimes you just have to swallow your reality. -Jarod Kintz
His inner voice was drowned out by a minivan full of five screaming kids and the stench of piss. His wife's gaze penetrated him like a hot knife sliding through strawberry icecream. He tapped the breaks as his thumb tapped his thigh in rhythm to his favorite song. He stepped on the gas pedal imagining it to be her knuckles which were turning down his music so she could yell at baby Brian in the back seat. Then she lifted her hand off the knob and placed it on his knee and the glare from the glow of the dashboard faded like his frown and he felt himself smiling as he moved his hand over her warm hand. -Jarod Kintz
Memories are like blankets: the best ones always seem to be warm and fuzzy.
Like the time I caught you smoking a joint in the living room, and you casually remarked, Hey, even the early Christians got stoned.
Or the time I wanted to go out to the Irish pub, and you said alcohol is the motorcycle of beverages, and you walked into the bar wearing a helmet yelling, Liver fast, die young.
Ha, remember the time you wanted to start a garage band, but father said he wouldn’t move the car? You said that not being in a band was hurting your sex life. Not getting laid can be a crippling experience, you’d said. But then how many eleven-year-olds are looking for sex along the interstate?
I miss you brother. It feels horrible to lose something you never had. Like the time you finally lost your virginity. We were twelve, and I told mother not to worry, it was probably still in your pocket, where your hands spent most of their time.
he said he was going to the bathroom but I haven't seen him since he left the table I don't know what to do but he did leave a note on a napkin saying something about uppers and downers and turning into a pharmaceutical escalator and before this darkness he sees now there was Sun records and his pal sam who thought a man on fire could illuminate a crowd and he kept my records spinning as fast as the wheels on my pink Cadillac and soon enough my songs were rolling in like Campbell's soup cans in a Warhol painting frenzy and he was a pop star just like me and my music is as American as is Jazz New Orleans not Salt Lake and the critics said Rock and Roll was just the devil's music but I know the devil can't dance like me Lucifer isn't loose on his toes and the way my hips used to swivel and gyratelike a rough sketch of a helicopter drawn by daVinci and piloted by Decaprio after his cold water Titanic scene now that's how much I shook the south and the West not like Kanye who shook his finger and ran his mouth in under four minutes that reminds me of Roger Bannister who ran a mile not like Eminem who knows 8 Mile which brings me back to my purple pills and if you'll excuse me I have to use the restroom.
The red paint dripped on the canvas like blood splattered by a stray bullet, or flesh ripped and gashed by a knife the size of a brush. The artists arms flail wildly like the aggressive arms of a suicidal attacker- but this is a victimless crime, or is it? This canvas screams homicide.
Knowing a relationship is right is like picking the best dessert. All of the warm gooey stuff hits you right in the stomach and no matter how hard you try, you can never lose it.
I sat on the wall and waited for his fat ass to arrive, he said he'd meet me here, but I think he is cracking under the pressure, then I look over my shoulder and the sonofabitch has fallen off the wall and cracked his egghead-- that big melon of a cranium that holds no brain, only excuses--and I jump down and pull out my skillet from my billfold and cook me up some breakfast. I knew he was good for something. -Jarod Kintz
Danny was silent at the table, but his eyes were bulging like the veins in his forehead, as he whipped his head around and his eyes narrowed quicky like footballs punctured by a truck. Then he let out a shriek followed my a cow-like moan as he flung his fork to his right hand and yanked his arm back, and in an arcing path with the force of a speeding bicycle, he brought that fork saquarely down on my forearm and left it lodged there as he sat back and his face released into a relaxed smirk. I watched as blood streamed down my arm as I took hold of the fork, wrenched it out of my flesh, stood up, walked over to him, and stuck it in his gut. -Jarod Kintz
“I don’t want any goddamn cookies, Grandma,” I shout and turn my head back around to look at the computer screen. She shakily sets the tray down and rubs my blond hair with her fingers. “What’s bothering you Ora? I haven’t seen Amy around recently. Are you two still together?” She asks as she takes the tray back into the kitchen. I am not in the middle of typing another email. “Amy became a missionary last month and went over to India where she got possessed and stabbed herself eighty seven times with a rusty garden shovel.” “A missionary, huh?” she calls from within the kitchen. “I always knew she was a special child.” But I am not listening. I am in a crazy mood today. I am writing to random companies saying some of the weirdest things, just to see what kind of responses I can get. An hour ago I wrote to Guiness Book of World Records with a bizarre proposal and got this response back from them:
Dear Mr. Kintz Thank you for sending us the details of your recent record proposal for 'Cocoa puff underwater swim with cat'. We are afraid to say that we are unable to accept this as a Guinness World Record. We have considered your proposal carefully but regret that it is not something for which we are currently interested in listing a record. We receive over 60,000 enquiries a year from which only a small proportion are approved by our experienced researchers to establish new categories.
We appreciate that this may be disappointing to you. We are always keen to hear from people who wish to set a Guinness World Record. If you should need any advice regarding record breaking in the future, please do not hesitate to contact us, quoting the above membership number.
Once again thank you for your interest in Guinness World Records.
Yours sincerely, Charles Biggins
After reading this I throw my head back and let out a howl of a laugh. It startles my grandma who is lying on the sofa. I can see her put her hand over her chest and massage it. I turn back to the screen and start typing my response. Mr. Biggins, I am saddened that my proposal to be the first man to swim with his cat in an Olympic sized swimming pool filled with chocolate milk and Cocoa Puffs has been denied. Oh well, such is life. But I am not deterred. I am on a quest! A quest for a Guinness World Record, and it is my destiny!
I have another proposal for you. I am seeking an answer to the age old question of: how many 16 pound bowling balls can be stacked, one on top of another, on the spine of an 8 pound cat? My guess is seven, but I will attempt nine. For the part of the cat, I am using Mr. Fizzlebush, who has a stronger spine than any mammal or marsupial since Frederick the Zildabeest (Although Frederick was suspected of using steriods). Mr. Fizzlebush is completely natural I assure you as his trainer. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Thank you, Ora Kintz
From the living room I hear grandma let out a moan of discomfort. I turn the volume on my music and begin searching for more people to email. I watch my fingers trample over the keyboard and make little pouncing noises like a chariot pulled by obese mice. I stumble upon MIT’s website and begin a new email.
Dear Dean Silbey, I have long been a fan of MIT. You guys do amazing work in the field of science. But the reason I am writing today is because I am very concerned about something and I was hoping you could help me out. I recently moved from Texas to Florida. As you know, there is a two hour time shift in timezones. As I was flying over here, I couldn't stop thinking about those lost two hours. Where did they go? Did I lose those two hours off my lifespan? Because of my panic I have temporarily stopped smoking for two days in the hopes of gaining back those lost two hours off my life. I guess my question is, aside from my immediate action, how can I get those lost two hours back? I don't want to die any earlier than I have to (unless I am eating dinner with the in-laws). I hope to hear back from you soon. Thank you, Ora Kintz
As I finish typing I hear Grandma call out and ask me to bring her some water. Lazy bitch! “In a minute Grandma, let me finish applying for these jobs. Your grandson is going to be the next Warren Buffet someday. These top employers are going to jump at the chance to have a man of my caliber work there.” She arches her back slowly, “ok dear, whenever you are ready. You are my golden boy.” She says quietly and with much apparent effort. I shake off her words as I shake my wrist to get the blood flowing faster. I begin to type another email, this time to Dillards.
To whomever it may concern, Let me first start out by saying that I, Ora Kintz, am your store's biggest fan. Not in size (I am only 4'11") but in spirit and shopping habits. As much as I love your store, I feel that there is one thing missing: handicapped mannequins. While I myself am not crippled, I feel there is a serious shortage of paralized models. The handicapped are just underrepresented in the fashion world. They have to buy clothes too. I would be a beatiful thing to see a manequin in a wheelchair for all those paralized patrons of yours. I look forward to hearing back from you about this proposal of mine. Thank you, Ora Kintz
I massage my hands fast as my mind races along with my nimble fingers. I am too focused to hear the groans permeating from the sofa. I decide to email the Army too.
Dear Army, really appreciate all you are doing for the safety of America as for the rest of the world. I have noticed that when I watch a TV recruiting commercial all of the soldiers seem to be men. I have a suggestion that would make women enlist in the Army. Instead of your ad campaign that says, "An Army Of One," you should change it to "Girls Gun Wild." And you could show a bunch of beautiful women in bikinis shooting machine guns. I have a strong hunch that girls would flock, like vultures over a festering corpse, to join the Army. What do you think of this marketing strategy? I look forward to hearing from you. Thank you, Ora Kintz P.S. Would you be needing my excellent fighting skills? I haven’t been in too many fights, but I was a ballerina for several weeks. I have strong calf muscles. I’m thinking Green Beret. But you have to pay me more, seeing as how I am sort of a ringer for you guys. Let me know, you have my number. But don’t call after nine, mother doesn’t like it.
I am shaking with pleasure now, and I look over to see Grandma shaking too. She is so supportive. I decide to write one more before I go raid the pantry.
Dear NASA, I am a big fan of space. I really like how there is so much of it. It really makes me feel small and insignificant (although I am, standing at only 4' 7") when I really think about it. My grandpa Melvin was a cheese farmer in Wisconsin. He said the moon was made of cheese. I was wondering, since you've been there, what kind of cheese is it made of? Are there any plans to bring some of this cheese back to earth to sell? I have an idea for a trailer, like the ones that are hooked up on the back of a pickup truck, that you could use to bring some of the cheese back. The trailer would be lined with tinfoil to keep out the radiation and stop the cheese from melting as you re-enter the earth's atmosphere. I hope to hear back from you soon. Your loyal fan, Ora Kintz P.S. I think you should let me fly a shuttle, I have a terrific driving record. And mother says I can drive stick like no other child she has (and she has dozens of children).
Now I am really having spasms of delight, and I look over at Grandma who is also having spasms on the floor. So I close out of my email and call the police. After my call failing seven times due to no reception it is too late. She is a member of the largest fraternity/sorority ever now. I should have taken one of her damned cookies.
If Television Is Invaluable, How Much Is A Philo T. Farnsworth?
There are 24 hours in a day--three sets of eight hours--one for sleep, one for work, and one 8-hour block of my day I sit here on the sofa and munch on Doritoes, and brush the crumbs that fall on my shirt down in between the sofa cushions as I chug my Bud light and turn down the volume on commercial breaks. My significant other is my Phillips flatscreen. The images flash 16 times per second, decieving my eye into seeing movement. Each screen is composed of pixels-- dots of light--red, green, and blue, and I owe it all to you, so let me mute the tube as I lift my beer and say, This one's for you, Philo T. Farnsworth. -Jarod Kintz
I guess that sometimes you can be too drunk to funk. But if having sex with a miner is not coal, who would need the law offices of secks, secks, and moore-secks? I realize that even the early christians got stoned, but things were so much simpler then. For instance their sex machines didn't take batteries, cause batteries didn't exist. I have to go now, but will you at least think about what I've said? No?.... Oh, go luck off!!!
A world renoun psycic says that there's sex in heaven. She says if you take your most intense orgasm multiply that by 1,000 for a coule of days, that is what sex is like in heaven... Man, sometimes I just can't wait to die!
I like to say random things. Just walk up to someone and say, "I know a lot about corn." and then just walk away. Which I'm from the cornhusker state, so I do know a lot about corn. My roommate likes to say, "I hate pancakes and waffles." I also like to yell things out the window when I ride in a car. Sometimes I just make obnoxious noises, sometimes I say things like, "I know your mom!". Pants, is the best! Just randomly throw it in your conversation every once in a while. Or if someone says something rude you could say, "oh yeah? Tell it to your pants!" Or you can say, "I hate your meatloaf!" Screw random acts of kindness, I say random acts of words is the way to make this a better world to live in. PANTS!
To me a friend is someone who stands by you no matter what. Through thick and thin, as they say. Well, I wish "they" would have a little chat with my friends.
While reflecting on Beloved, I feel one overwhelming feeling. > One of desperation. Tony Morrison did a great job of capturing the > feeling that African Americans must have felt around the time of > slavery. Beloved is a complex book with many conflicts. Man Vs. Man, > where everybody is fighting for the attention of Sethe, Man Vs. > Society as this family struggles to live in a white country that is > prejudiced against blacks, but also there is another conflict I feel > is there. Beloved has sort of a Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle > Maintenance mood going for it also. The final conflict I see is one > of Man Vs. Machine. > > The machine I refer to is one of continual hatred and > discrimination. America in the mid to late nineteenth century and > before was very much a smooth running machine based on values that > were slanted toward people of European descent. Life was as smooth as > a well oiled engine if you were white, but if were black, you were > like the oil that is only there to be burned up to make the engine > run faster. This is the impression I’m left with after reading > Morrison’s book. > > Sure we all know American history, and we all know slavery > existed, but we have always viewed it through a Caucasian > perspective. In Beloved, we get to feel the anguish through an > African American viewpoint. While it is true that Tony Morrison > herself has never experienced slavery, and she can’t be fully > certain what the feelings of being a piece of property would have > felt like, it is very true that Tony Morrison has grown up in a > divided society and she has experienced racism at every point in her > career. > > So here we are in America nearly 150 years after slavery has > been abolished and America is still a machine that is run and slanted > towards people of European descent. And America likes to brush over > slavery as if it was ancient history and isn’t applicable to talk > about today. But I think that Beloved is just as valid in today’s > society as it ever would have been in Sethe’s time. It’s as if > Morrison was expressing grim frustration with her final repetition of > the phrase at the end of her book, “This is not a story to pass > on.” Beloved, and the entire history of all suppressed peoples are > stories to be passed on, because once people forget their plight, > they will be more apt to repeat the transgressions that Beloved > beautifully and painfully reminds us all of. > -Jarod Kintz
recently it has come to my attention that my Grandmother mildred has died a most grusome death. And in her passing I was left with her chicken farm empire. I have about three hundred chickens that I have no use for, except for Larry, my childhood chicken friend. I want to sell you the chickens, at cutthroat prices (no pun intended), but I need to know whether or not I have to cut the head off of each chicken before I ship them, or just stuff them whole into boxes? I would be willing to sell each for ten dollars, and I might even be willing to let Larry go for twenty dollars, seeing as how he was always such a loyal friend. Let me know quickly, I need the cash. Best, Jarod Kintz
Dear John Howard (Prime Minister of Australia),
When my Grandma Own died last month, she left me a sizeable fortune--$13,346.96 to be exact. When I first got the money I didn't know what to do. My first instinct was to blow it all on a new tricycle. But I stopped myself and thought it would be wiser to invest it. I also knew i wanted to own an island. That is where you come in. With my inheritence I have purchased two slushies and 652 twenty dollar Outback Gift Certificates. So I am offering you 650 gift certificates for your beautiful island of Australia, and I will even let you remain the prime minister once I am crowned. Please get back to me soon, I might want to go grab some lunch and be tempted to use your funds. Sincerely, Jarod Kintz
If I had a secret club, I wouldn't have a secret handshake, or a secret password, I'd have a sign that says, "IQ prerequisite!". Oh, and "No Llamas ALLOWED!!!".
When my little brother was about 3 and I was 5, we were sitting at the dinner table having normal Midwestern family time. My brother turns to me, puts his hands over his eyes and asks, “Can you see me?” Being all of 5, I took the sensitive route and laughed in his covered faced. “Yes, I can see you!” I thought about that conversation the other day and wondered, what if that was reality. When you can’t see anything, no one could see you either. Imagine every time you blinked, you would disappear. Imagine how difficult it would be to kidnap someone, you could never cover their eyes. No one could see you sleep, you might flash a little during REM sleep, but that’s about it. Just think, when you kiss someone, when you sneeze, …gone. Would blind people be invisible all the time?
109 Comments:
My boss stole my WIFEGUARD on the first day I bought it. He doesn't even need any he has so many. -Jason
These are the greatest shirts I have ever seen. They're hilarious.-T.J. A.K.A. Biggeth Sexeth
The SECKS, SECKS and MOORE-SECKS is really funny. I like the pink shirt too, it's cute.-Jenny
Looks like you boys are the ones I wrote about in http://www.brainopolis.com/lance/funstuff/DaughterRules.html
I clicked on his DaughterRules link and read about a sentence or two before I started nodding off.
Crazy site...Wifeguard...brilliant. My girlfriend wants a sex like business shirt. When are the girls ones coming out? -Greg J.
I like the shirts they are pretty freakin funny. They would probably be even better if you got some play every now and then. It's just a thought. - Dave
These shirts are awesome! My roomates and I love them. We know we would be able to pick up alot of chicks wearing these. We definetley need the help.
- Mac Daddy
This post has been removed by the author.
I just love my spooning shirt I bought from you. It's one of the few I can pass off as a homoerotic inuendo as well. -Sam
P.S. Would Dave or Greg J happen to be single?
The cartoons are great. I love the one about boyfriends. It is so funny...yet true.
-Melissa
Those drawings are awesome. The one obout the dog is quite comical.
Miffy Bifquik
Dude, those comics are great. I am reminded of the late, great Gary larson when I see them.
I accidentally stumbled on this site. And boy are my ankles swollen. Your shirts are by far the most clever and original shirts online. I fancy myself as a comic writer, you wouldn't by any chance be hiring, would you? I'll drop you a line through your contacts page. Oh, so there is nothing between us, I have red hair. Is that going to be a problem? My stepmother thought so, that's why I was beaten like a mangy puppy that urinates in the soup. I'll hollar atcha.
This website is crazy. The about us page is the wittiest I have ever seen. I agree that Gary Larson would be proud of those comics. They are hilarious... along with the T-shirts. These T-Shirts are the perfect uniform for any college student. This Jarod Kintz guy is true comic GENIUS!
-Lauren Zimpel
These are the funniest T-Shirts online. The one about the Thorsome is hilarious. Man will I get some crazy looks wearing these. I can't wait to see what my friends have to say.
-Tiffany
Jarod, whoever you are man you have the right idea, Sex IS like business...better with multiple partners! That shirt is crazy! I can't wait to wear it. This website is hot.
Steven
I love this website, it is awesome! The girls shirts are so cute. I love the " I drink therefore I am." The crazy one about the spooning is cool too.
-Chelsea
P.S. The comics are sooo funny!
Your shirts are really "HOT". Look foward to new designs. Rick
Seeing the wit in your shirts has caused me to reflect on my life and realize that its all been a lie. So while I wear "make glove to me" I will take my own life.
thanks- The African Fraud
I like "Even the Early Christians got Stoned". Did they really? Anyways, this website is mad hot and freakin funny!
-Tommy
I get asked alot where i got my shirt and i tell em your website.
muah,
alice
Yo, you guys seem nutz. Do you guys have any plans for future flash mob evenys? I bet you guys could come up with some wicked crazy flash mob madness. You guys could do the first ever Florida flash mob. If you do, let me know, I'm on your email list.
-Robert
Die Hemden sind lustig und ich denke, dass Sie sexy sind.
I think that this website rocks! The shirts are funny and so are the comics. I love the "Secks, Secks and Moore Secks..." but all of them are great!
Allison
right on man! these tees rock
Jamieson
These shirts are a bit pretentious and arrogant, though the do have a certain flair.
Louella
What up? these shirts are dank my girl cracked up when she saw them. keep em rollin man
Jimbo aka ben dover
Estas camisas son frescas. Pienso que él es un tipo chistoso.
Miguel
Fuckin muy fuega! Luv tha shirts
Love the shirts. Love the ideas. Love the comics. Great website man.
Jordan
I love the website. I read your comment about writing a humor book. Let me know more about it. I am sure it is just as crazy and funny as your T-Shirts. Let me know.
Mak A. Stink
São muito gracioso. Gozo olhar seu quadro e me tocando.
Awesome designs
These shirts are so funny. They are by far the wittiest I have seen anywhere. Crazy designs and comics. I love them.
Rebecca
funny shirts, i love the website,you are one funny guy jarod, keep it up
james
pretty cool
Great shirts. My friends and I love them. We love walking in some place and having people laugh at us. So these shirts are perfect for us. They are crazy.
Sammy
love the shirt. keep me posted on future designs.
thanks again, alex k
akur25@bellsouth.net
I love you Jarod Kintz. Your ideas are beyond brilliant. Keep up the crazy free thinking style that I love so much.
:)Lindsey
I love Jarod more. His clever ideas and boyish good looks just make me hot. So back off Lindsey.
LOVE YOU FOREVER :)Sam:)
Sam, take it back to the park, he's mine. And stay away from the little boys, they're also MINE!
-Mrs. Jane
Jarod Kintz you truly are an incredible guy. Smart, witty and extremely intelligent. Plus you are by far the funniest guy within fifty feet of me, at least! Keep the shirts and comics coming, they are the best I have ever seen! No one can top your stuff, it is comic genius. You are the next Larson.
Niggelsby
I love the new look of the webiste. Very clean and to the point. It really makes the shirts the main focus! Awesome website for some awesome shirts.
The Birdman
What an awesome site! My girls and I love it. The comics and the shirts are so funny! We love to wear these shirts out, especially " Luck Off". Can we still wear that if we aren't Irish?
Vicki
I sent you a picture of me wearing your shirt, and don't see it on the "photos from you" page. Why?
No hard feelings alex, but it's because you are ugly.
No hard feelings alex, but it's because you are ugly.
just got done wiping my ass with one of your shirts. it's great! if you won't post my picture then just "LUCK OFF" asshole. -alex
Well alex I am glad to know you are staying clean and healthy. Also glad to know that we could help you with that!
Grandmother's classified ad:
Little old lady tires of going topless. 2000 Mustang convertable. Fully loaded like Ted Kennedy. V8, white leather interior, power everything, great sound system, cherry red, garage kept, flawless condition.
-Jarod Kintz
-Man wants woman to produce, woman gives birth to healthy head of lettuce.
-Garbage man finds girlfriend in trash can, dumps her anyway.
-A man with fish for hands gets caught stealing in Saudia Arabia, gets hand cut off. He cooks it and says it tastes great with a splash of lemon.
-Man eats cereal out of public toilet bowls. Stench reminds him of boyhood breakfasts in Kentucky.
-Jarod Kintz
New t-shirt: (Picture of a safe): Even if you're the first to break in, always practice safe sex.
-Jarod Kintz
If you spit watermelon seeds, you just might poke someone's eyeball out. And if you miss, follow up with a quick jab of your finger.
-Jarod Kintz
Time passes so quickly in a cryogenic freezer. And the breainfreeze is like a thousand nails driven into a single point in time, twenty years ago that has acrueing pain, like interest at a bank where the teller has a shrill voice and nasty jagged teeth. And let's not even talk about the shrinkage factor. Talk about a wrinkle in time.
-Jarod Kintz
I used to own a magic carpet, but I got air sick and threw up all over it. And when I took it to my dry cleaners, they immediately jumped on and flew back to Calcutta. And that's how I came to outsource my drycleaning to India.
-Jarod Kintz
I like to party with no pants. Then when I start drinking I really get crazy. I have been known to throw on a pair of sweatpants now and again. But those are the nights I can barely remember my name, let alone the second paragraph of the Magna Carta.
-Jarod Kintz
I always wear a jacket when it is hot outside. So that if a blizzard comes from out of nowhere, I am prepared. I also carry a bazooka. In case the abominal snowman comes with it.
A tree is wise because it remains silent. At least until you cut off its limbs, then it gets all sappy.
-Jarod Kintz
His hands were as pale as a bucket of water.
The room was as vast as a vase, but the flowers were wilted and worn with worry.
Are you trying to tell her something with your hands?
Because you don't have to shout.
He got married in a blender.
Now his other half is in a glass that's half empty.
His voice was mumbled,
his fists were clenched, his
forehead drenched, like a soldier, scared and trenched.
Yet he marched on, down that aisle, not only ending his life, but also that of his
young, lovely wife.
-Jarod Kintz
This poem evokes such a feeling of sadness you actually hurt for the young woman. The man knows he shouldnt go through with it, nerves are normal but what this man is feeling is unnatural. The feeling of sadness and darkness would be depressing if it wasn't so refreshing to actually feel something after reading a poem.
I choose to sit on the floor.
I don't want to bother the lonely old wooden chair.
It has been silent for months now.
I am quiet, waiting to hear what rests heavy on its lumbering mind.
-Jarod Kintz
As wind waddles through the trees,
our goodbyes are exchanging like the leaves.
I bid you sayonara, sweet, boisterous breeze.
Can I see you next summer? Can I please?
-Jarod Kintz
As I sit up on this rock, eaglelike, with a cigarette dangling like a worm from my mouth, the world seems clear. Clear as the river below.
Right now anything is possible, even flight.
I hurl myself against the force of gravity,
and enjoy the freedoms of a bird while they last.
-Jarod Kintz
Good stuff stinky! Simple but elegant.
I met a floozy named Fluellen, who used to be a Frank about two years back and two states over. But hey, I'm not one to judge. I just count my blessings on my toes as I shuffle a deck of cards with my teeth.
-Jarod Kintz
Fall follows summer like a fool's folly into a cage full of cash, perhaps fallen leaves that flew off the money tree.
-Jarod Kintz
I squeezed the lime on my bleeding heart, then took a shot of tequilla.
-Jarod Kintz
I could not pass up the invitation, I had never spent the night under the bleachers before. I will never forget that smell, either.
-Jarod Kintz
The clown was furious, and I watched as the sweat dripped off his big, red, alcoholic nose onto his big, red, shiny shoes. My eye twitched as I saw his trigger finger flinch underneath that deadly pie of his.
-Jarod Kintz
We made love for what seemed like eternity, but was, in fact, only minutes, as the power cut off and the alarm clock was blinking in orgasmic rhythm. At least somebody got off, then turned back on.
-Jarod Kintz
Like two bunnies we theater hopped, until Sally knocked over the popcorn and i was ushered out of the movie by the manager for exposing myself.
-Jarod Kintz
Daddy won't buy me a pony. Daddy won't buy me another Porche. Dady won't buy me a pistol, otherwise I'd likely shoot him.
-Jarod Kintz
His hands were as pale as a bucket of water.
He cracked his knuckles like disobedient peanuts.
The room was as vast as a vase, but the flowers were wilted and worn with worry.
Are you trying to tell her something with your hands?
Because you don't have to shout.
He got married in a blender.
Now his other half is in a glass that's half empty.
His voice was mumbled,
his fists were clenched, his
forehead drenched, like a soldier, scared and trenched.
Yet he marched on, down that aisle, not only ending his life, but also that of his
young, lovely wife.
-Jarod Kintz
A poetic comic? Or a comedic poet? You know everything must have a label, how else would my boss make it through his day?
RoRoUrBoat
RoRoUrBoat,
My boss makes it through the day on his raft. I work for a canoe and used boat store. We mostly sell cars, but occassionally we rent out furniture. Well, we just leased out my boss' desk because he doesn't actually do much work. I just pray that one day (tomorrow) he gets eaten by a shark. I keep lacing the underbelly of his raft with fish guts and spagetti sauce. So far the only thing that's attacked him are the homeless men who hang out on San Jose Blvd. They ruffed him up pretty good. And they were cheap too.
-Jarod Kintz
P.S. Do you have a blonde wig you can bring to our rendezvous? Because I have a thing for red heads. I'll steal my boss' raft. We can sail away to France. They say Berlin is nice this time of year. Plus, the French make lots of great cheese, and they wine a lot too.
RoRoUrBoat,
Why haven't you responded? I've waited for nearly half a minute. I'm so lonely. I have no cheese, and no gas to run up to the store to buy some more. I think I'll take Mr. Fizzlebush and ride him up to Wal-Mart and find me a quality checkout girl to gorge myself on cheese with. If you respond quickly you might be able to catch me before I get out of the door. I'll wait a minute.
-Jarod Kintz
RoRoUrBoat,
I just got back from Wal-Mart. I ate some cheese. I also ate the fat checkout girl. I think I have a new favorite food. Have you ever noticed how poverty has a certain stench? Smells kind of like moldy cheese and old feet. I'm making myself hungry again.
-Jarod Kintz
I eat when I'm depressed. And then I starve myself as punishment. This makes me depressed again, so I again gorge myself.
-Jarod Kintz
If you are what you eat, and you eat nothing, do you cease to exist? I think so. I think Descartes should have said, I eat, therefore I am. And logically, I ate, therefore I was. Then if you eat your children, you become them and can then live on forever, assuming you are not bulimic. Like the cow who eats the grass, when he is dead and decomposed, he becomes the grass. I need to become a babysitter.
-Jarod Kintz
I had a friend who loved being the center of attention. But the tornado tore him to pieces.
-Jarod Kintz
I just saw the exorcism of emily rose. It was a spiritual gangbang, and the religious juices were flowing.
-Jarod Kintz
In my last short story, the protagonist's name was B.J. because he really brought me to my knees. But sometimes you just have to swallow your reality.
-Jarod Kintz
Love
His inner voice was drowned
out by a minivan full of five
screaming kids and the stench
of piss. His wife's gaze
penetrated him like a hot knife
sliding through strawberry
icecream. He tapped the breaks
as his thumb tapped his thigh
in rhythm to his favorite song.
He stepped on the gas pedal
imagining it to be her knuckles
which were turning down his
music so she could yell at baby
Brian in the back seat. Then
she lifted her hand off the knob
and placed it on his knee
and the glare from the glow
of the dashboard faded like
his frown and he felt himself
smiling as he moved his
hand over her warm hand.
-Jarod Kintz
Jarod Kintz
Poem 4a
The Brother I Never Had
Memories are like blankets:
the best ones always seem
to be warm and fuzzy.
Like the time I caught you
smoking a joint in the living
room, and you casually
remarked, Hey, even the early
Christians got stoned.
Or the time I wanted to go out
to the Irish pub, and you
said alcohol is the motorcycle
of beverages, and you walked
into the bar wearing a helmet
yelling, Liver fast, die young.
Ha, remember the time you
wanted to start a garage band,
but father said he wouldn’t move
the car? You said that not being
in a band was hurting your sex life.
Not getting laid can be a crippling
experience, you’d said. But then
how many eleven-year-olds
are looking for sex along the interstate?
I miss you brother. It feels horrible
to lose something you never had.
Like the time you finally lost your
virginity. We were twelve, and I
told mother not to worry,
it was probably still in your pocket,
where your hands spent most
of their time.
Elvis Has Left The Bill
by Jarod Kintz
he said he was going to the bathroom but I haven't seen him since he left the table I don't know what to do but he did leave a note on a napkin saying something about uppers and downers and turning into a pharmaceutical escalator and before this darkness he sees now there was Sun records and his pal sam who thought a man on fire could illuminate a crowd and he kept my records spinning as fast as the wheels on my pink Cadillac and soon enough my songs were rolling in like Campbell's soup cans in a Warhol painting frenzy and he was a pop star just like me and my music is as American as is Jazz New Orleans not Salt Lake and the critics said Rock and Roll was just the devil's music but I know the devil can't dance like me Lucifer isn't loose on his toes and the way my hips used to swivel and gyratelike a rough sketch of a helicopter drawn by daVinci and piloted by Decaprio after his cold water Titanic scene now that's how much I shook the south and the West not like Kanye who shook his finger and ran his mouth in under four minutes that reminds me of Roger Bannister who ran a mile not like Eminem who knows 8 Mile which brings me back to my purple pills and if you'll excuse me I have to use the restroom.
Abstractions Speak Louder Than Words
By Jarod Kintz
The red paint dripped
on the canvas like blood
splattered by a stray bullet,
or flesh ripped and gashed
by a knife the size of a brush.
The artists arms flail wildly
like the aggressive arms
of a suicidal attacker-
but this is a victimless crime,
or is it?
This canvas screams homicide.
Knowing a relationship is right is like picking the best dessert. All of the warm gooey stuff hits you right in the stomach and no matter how hard you try, you can never lose it.
Lauren Zimpel
I sat on the wall
and waited for his
fat ass to arrive,
he said he'd meet
me here, but I think
he is cracking under
the pressure, then I
look over my shoulder
and the sonofabitch
has fallen off the wall
and cracked his egghead--
that big melon of a cranium
that holds no brain,
only excuses--and I
jump down and pull
out my skillet from
my billfold and cook
me up some breakfast.
I knew he was good
for something.
-Jarod Kintz
I like to steal. I have sticky fingers. Mostly I rob cotton candy vendors.
-Jarod Kintz
When danger rears it's ferocious head, I run like a deer in the headlights.
-Jarod Kintz
Danny was silent at the table,
but his eyes were bulging
like the veins in his forehead,
as he whipped his head
around and his eyes narrowed
quicky like footballs
punctured by a truck.
Then he let out a
shriek followed my a cow-like
moan as he flung his fork
to his right hand and yanked
his arm back, and in an arcing
path with the force of
a speeding bicycle, he
brought that fork saquarely
down on my forearm and left
it lodged there as he sat
back and his face released into a relaxed smirk. I watched as
blood streamed down my arm
as I took hold of the fork,
wrenched it out of my flesh,
stood up, walked over to him,
and stuck it in his gut.
-Jarod Kintz
“I don’t want any goddamn cookies, Grandma,” I shout and turn my head back around to look at the computer screen.
She shakily sets the tray down and rubs my blond hair with her fingers. “What’s bothering you Ora? I haven’t seen Amy around recently. Are you two still together?” She asks as she takes the tray back into the kitchen.
I am not in the middle of typing another email. “Amy became a missionary last month and went over to India where she got possessed and stabbed herself eighty seven times with a rusty garden shovel.”
“A missionary, huh?” she calls from within the kitchen. “I always knew she was a special child.”
But I am not listening. I am in a crazy mood today. I am writing to random companies saying some of the weirdest things, just to see what kind of responses I can get. An hour ago I wrote to Guiness Book of World Records with a bizarre proposal and got this response back from them:
Dear Mr. Kintz
Thank you for sending us the details of your recent record proposal for 'Cocoa puff underwater swim with cat'. We are afraid to say that we are unable to accept this as a Guinness World Record. We have considered your proposal carefully but regret that it is not something for which we are currently interested in listing a record. We
receive over 60,000 enquiries a year from which only a small proportion are approved by our experienced researchers to establish new categories.
We appreciate that this may be disappointing to you. We are always keen to hear from people who wish to set a Guinness World Record. If you should need any advice regarding record breaking in the future, please do not hesitate to contact us, quoting the above membership number.
Once again thank you for your interest in Guinness World Records.
Yours sincerely,
Charles Biggins
After reading this I throw my head back and let out a howl of a laugh. It startles my grandma who is lying on the sofa. I can see her put her hand over her chest and massage it. I turn back to the screen and start typing my response.
Mr. Biggins,
I am saddened that my proposal to be the first man to swim with his cat in an Olympic sized swimming pool filled with chocolate milk and Cocoa Puffs has been denied. Oh well, such is life. But I am not deterred. I am on a quest! A quest for a Guinness World Record, and it is my destiny!
I have another proposal for you. I am seeking an answer to the age old question of: how many 16 pound bowling balls can be stacked, one on top of another, on the spine of an 8 pound cat? My guess is seven, but I will attempt nine. For the part of the cat, I am using Mr. Fizzlebush, who has a stronger spine than any mammal or marsupial since Frederick the Zildabeest (Although Frederick was suspected of using steriods). Mr. Fizzlebush is completely natural I assure you as his trainer. I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Thank you,
Ora Kintz
From the living room I hear grandma let out a moan of discomfort. I turn the volume on my music and begin searching for more people to email. I watch my fingers trample over the keyboard and make little pouncing noises like a chariot pulled by obese mice. I stumble upon MIT’s website and begin a new email.
Dear Dean Silbey,
I have long been a fan of MIT. You guys do amazing work in the field of science. But the reason I am writing today is because I am very concerned about something and I was hoping you could help me out. I recently moved from Texas to Florida. As you know, there is a two hour time shift in timezones. As I was flying over here, I couldn't stop thinking about those lost two hours. Where did they go? Did I lose those two hours off my lifespan? Because of my panic I have temporarily stopped smoking for two days in the hopes of gaining back those lost two hours off my life. I guess my question is, aside from my immediate action, how can I get those lost two hours back? I don't want to die any earlier than I have to (unless I am eating dinner with the in-laws). I hope to hear back from you soon.
Thank you,
Ora Kintz
As I finish typing I hear Grandma call out and ask me to bring her some water. Lazy bitch!
“In a minute Grandma, let me finish applying for these jobs. Your grandson is going to be the next Warren Buffet someday. These top employers are going to jump at the chance to have a man of my caliber work there.”
She arches her back slowly, “ok dear, whenever you are ready. You are my golden boy.” She says quietly and with much apparent effort.
I shake off her words as I shake my wrist to get the blood flowing faster. I begin to type another email, this time to Dillards.
To whomever it may concern,
Let me first start out by saying that I, Ora Kintz, am your store's biggest fan. Not in size (I am only 4'11") but in spirit and shopping habits. As much as I love your store, I feel that there is one thing missing: handicapped mannequins. While I myself am not crippled, I feel there is a serious shortage of paralized models. The handicapped are just underrepresented in the fashion world. They have to buy clothes too. I would be a beatiful thing to see a manequin in a wheelchair for all those paralized patrons of yours. I look forward to hearing back from you about this proposal of mine.
Thank you,
Ora Kintz
I massage my hands fast as my mind races along with my nimble fingers. I am too focused to hear the groans permeating from the sofa. I decide to email the Army too.
Dear Army,
really appreciate all you are doing for the safety of America as for the rest of the world. I have noticed that when I watch a TV recruiting commercial all of the soldiers seem to be men. I have a suggestion that would make women enlist in the Army.
Instead of your ad campaign that says, "An Army Of One," you should change it to "Girls Gun Wild." And you could show a bunch of beautiful women in bikinis shooting machine guns. I have a strong hunch that girls would flock, like vultures over a festering corpse, to join the Army.
What do you think of this marketing strategy? I look forward to hearing from you.
Thank you,
Ora Kintz
P.S. Would you be needing my excellent fighting skills? I haven’t been in too many fights, but I was a ballerina for several weeks. I have strong calf muscles. I’m thinking Green Beret. But you have to pay me more, seeing as how I am sort of a ringer for you guys. Let me know, you have my number. But don’t call after nine, mother doesn’t like it.
I am shaking with pleasure now, and I look over to see Grandma shaking too. She is so supportive. I decide to write one more before I go raid the pantry.
Dear NASA,
I am a big fan of space. I really like how there is so much of it. It really makes me feel small and insignificant (although I am, standing at only 4' 7") when I really think about it. My grandpa Melvin was a cheese farmer in Wisconsin. He said the moon was made of cheese. I was wondering, since you've been there, what kind of cheese is it made of? Are there any plans to bring some of this cheese back to earth to sell? I have an idea for a trailer, like the ones that are hooked up on the back of a pickup truck, that you could use to bring some of the cheese back. The trailer would be lined with tinfoil to keep out the radiation and stop the cheese from melting as you re-enter the earth's atmosphere. I hope to hear back from you soon.
Your loyal fan,
Ora Kintz
P.S. I think you should let me fly a shuttle, I have a terrific driving record. And mother says I can drive stick like no other child she has (and she has dozens of children).
Now I am really having spasms of delight, and I look over at Grandma who is also having spasms on the floor. So I close out of my email and call the police. After my call failing seven times due to no reception it is too late. She is a member of the largest fraternity/sorority ever now. I should have taken one of her damned cookies.
If Television Is Invaluable, How Much Is A Philo T. Farnsworth?
There are 24 hours
in a day--three sets
of eight hours--one
for sleep, one for work,
and one 8-hour block
of my day I sit here
on the sofa and munch
on Doritoes, and brush
the crumbs that fall
on my shirt down in
between the sofa
cushions as I chug
my Bud light and turn
down the volume on commercial breaks. My significant
other is my Phillips
flatscreen. The images
flash 16 times per second, decieving my eye into seeing movement. Each screen
is composed of pixels--
dots of light--red, green,
and blue, and I owe it all
to you, so let me mute
the tube as I lift my beer
and say, This one's for you,
Philo T. Farnsworth.
-Jarod Kintz
I guess that sometimes you can be too drunk to funk. But if having sex with a miner is not coal, who would need the law offices of secks, secks, and moore-secks? I realize that even the early christians got stoned, but things were so much simpler then. For instance their sex machines didn't take batteries, cause batteries didn't exist. I have to go now, but will you at least think about what I've said? No?.... Oh, go luck off!!!
A world renoun psycic says that there's sex in heaven. She says if you take your most intense orgasm multiply that by 1,000 for a coule of days, that is what sex is like in heaven... Man, sometimes I just can't wait to die!
I like to say random things. Just walk up to someone and say, "I know a lot about corn." and then just walk away. Which I'm from the cornhusker state, so I do know a lot about corn. My roommate likes to say, "I hate pancakes and waffles." I also like to yell things out the window when I ride in a car. Sometimes I just make obnoxious noises, sometimes I say things like, "I know your mom!". Pants, is the best! Just randomly throw it in your conversation every once in a while. Or if someone says something rude you could say, "oh yeah? Tell it to your pants!" Or you can say, "I hate your meatloaf!" Screw random acts of kindness, I say random acts of words is the way to make this a better world to live in. PANTS!
To me a friend is someone who stands by you no matter what. Through thick and thin, as they say. Well, I wish "they" would have a little chat with my friends.
I want to start a rock band. We'll be called, "The Keys Are In The Basket."
Sometimes I wish my boobs could talk. Then I'd know if they're just as excited to get my bra off as my boyfriend is.
While reflecting on Beloved, I feel one overwhelming feeling.
> One of desperation. Tony Morrison did a great job of capturing the
> feeling that African Americans must have felt around the time of
> slavery. Beloved is a complex book with many conflicts. Man Vs. Man,
> where everybody is fighting for the attention of Sethe, Man Vs.
> Society as this family struggles to live in a white country that is
> prejudiced against blacks, but also there is another conflict I feel
> is there. Beloved has sort of a Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle
> Maintenance mood going for it also. The final conflict I see is one
> of Man Vs. Machine.
>
> The machine I refer to is one of continual hatred and
> discrimination. America in the mid to late nineteenth century and
> before was very much a smooth running machine based on values that
> were slanted toward people of European descent. Life was as smooth as
> a well oiled engine if you were white, but if were black, you were
> like the oil that is only there to be burned up to make the engine
> run faster. This is the impression I’m left with after reading
> Morrison’s book.
>
> Sure we all know American history, and we all know slavery
> existed, but we have always viewed it through a Caucasian
> perspective. In Beloved, we get to feel the anguish through an
> African American viewpoint. While it is true that Tony Morrison
> herself has never experienced slavery, and she can’t be fully
> certain what the feelings of being a piece of property would have
> felt like, it is very true that Tony Morrison has grown up in a
> divided society and she has experienced racism at every point in her
> career.
>
> So here we are in America nearly 150 years after slavery has
> been abolished and America is still a machine that is run and slanted
> towards people of European descent. And America likes to brush over
> slavery as if it was ancient history and isn’t applicable to talk
> about today. But I think that Beloved is just as valid in today’s
> society as it ever would have been in Sethe’s time. It’s as if
> Morrison was expressing grim frustration with her final repetition of
> the phrase at the end of her book, “This is not a story to pass
> on.” Beloved, and the entire history of all suppressed peoples are
> stories to be passed on, because once people forget their plight,
> they will be more apt to repeat the transgressions that Beloved
> beautifully and painfully reminds us all of.
>
-Jarod Kintz
Dear Chik-Fil-A,
recently it has come to my attention that my Grandmother mildred has died a most grusome death. And in her passing I was left with her chicken farm empire. I have about three hundred chickens that I have no use for, except for Larry, my childhood chicken friend. I want to sell you the chickens, at cutthroat prices (no pun intended), but I need to know whether or not I have to cut the head off of each chicken before I ship them, or just stuff them whole into boxes? I would be willing to sell each for ten dollars, and I might even be willing to let Larry go for twenty dollars, seeing as how he was always such a loyal friend. Let me know quickly, I need the cash.
Best,
Jarod Kintz
Dear John Howard (Prime Minister of Australia),
When my Grandma Own died last month, she left me a sizeable fortune--$13,346.96 to be exact. When I first got the money I didn't know what to do. My first instinct was to blow it all on a new tricycle. But I stopped myself and thought it would be wiser to invest it. I also knew i wanted to own an island. That is where you come in. With my inheritence I have purchased two slushies and 652 twenty dollar Outback Gift Certificates. So I am offering you 650 gift certificates for your beautiful island of Australia, and I will even let you remain the prime minister once I am crowned. Please get back to me soon, I might want to go grab some lunch and be tempted to use your funds.
Sincerely,
Jarod Kintz
mistake me out to the ball game.
-Jarod Kintz
If I had a secret club, I wouldn't have a secret handshake, or a secret password, I'd have a sign that says, "IQ prerequisite!". Oh, and "No Llamas ALLOWED!!!".
I walked into the grocery store the other day and was punched right in the jaw by a man holding a rabbit. It's ok though, the rabbit apologized!
Of all the jungles in all the world, you had to swing into mine. ...and right where I planted the land mines.
Sometimes I sit and think, if I was smarter, I’d be so incredibly clever!
When my little brother was about 3 and I was 5, we were sitting at the dinner table having normal Midwestern family time. My brother turns to me, puts his hands over his eyes and asks, “Can you see me?” Being all of 5, I took the sensitive route and laughed in his covered faced. “Yes, I can see you!” I thought about that conversation the other day and wondered, what if that was reality. When you can’t see anything, no one could see you either. Imagine every time you blinked, you would disappear. Imagine how difficult it would be to kidnap someone, you could never cover their eyes. No one could see you sleep, you might flash a little during REM sleep, but that’s about it. Just think, when you kiss someone, when you sneeze, …gone. Would blind people be invisible all the time?
I had a fish once. He was hilarious!
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