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I just got off the phone with the Surgeon General, calling to remind me yet again about the hazards of mixing triptaphen and rapid humoron influx.

He actually called for Doctor Toboggans, who is presently in Istanbul, visiting the Istan Mystics, the only people equipped to handle the doctor’s extended presence due to their highly developed spiritual disciplines, which include a strict diet of acetylene roasted chitlins and sleeping on a bed of nail-polish chips.

But he settled for me, as many do, and as a responsible content-producer I simply cannot bring myself to endanger the public with a potentially explosive interaction of turkey and humor.

So for the safety of all involved, let’s just sleep it off.

After all, I’d hate for something like this to happen.

Happy Thanksgiving all.


If you simply cannot live without some weekend humor and are willing to risk spontaneous combustion, head over to where there is always a little something in the oven.