Contemporary Comedy Institute

I am officially announcing the creation of the Contemporary Comedy Institute. Thank you.

What? You want more information? Damn, you people are nosey. I mean, do you go poking your nose in other religions business? Yes, religion. No, we won’t be one of them kid fucking, jihad having (okay, this one is actually more of a probably not), Sunday go to meeting kind of religions.

That’s because the CCI is EVERYWHERE! The CCI is in YOU! Shit! The CCI is YOU!

Trust me, the CCI is a religion for you. Do you know how I know that? Because I just said it. And if you can’t take my word for it, well, okay, that shows some good sense. But if you’re going to believe in some invisible guy in the sky why not believe in a guy you could actually buy a beer for?

Like all religions there was an origin and it began with me (so that makes me pretty damn important, bitches, so listen up!). But it’s not one of those mystical stories like finding stone tablets, or gold etched rules while looking in a hat, hell, I didn’t even make shit up like some ‘prophets’ we’ve heard of.

Because I know you’ve been burned by other religions and you weren’t with me, you’ll have to have faith the story I am about to reveal happened on the morning of November 9, 2008! What other religion can pinpoint an exact starting date? That makes us special. And you special with your participation (yeah, okay, we will be using some subtle messaging to get our tentacles on you but they’re nice, soft, smooth tentacles. Not icky, sucker encrusted tentacles. That’d be gross).

And heretoforthwith is the story of the creation of the consecrated bonds of the Contemporary Comedy Institute.

It started like so many days in this cold, cruel world. The sacred angel of punctuality, Brutus, stoodith uponeth my blanketed face to announce it was time to unleash a bounty of sustenance upon he and the benevolent angel of fuzz, Bundeschwager. NOW!

Having divine knowledge there was no other option, I arose from slumber and bequeathed nourishment into the holy bowls of foodstuffs! A loud hosanna was heard through the land. My work done (in six minutes), I began another rest (on the seventh minute). I may be a godhead but I’m not fanatical about checking up on things.

After enjoying their repast, my two angels joined me in my respite until it was time to rise again to begin my day fully. I will not give out the exact details of my morning constitutional not due to some nefarious plot to keep deep, dark secrets from the flock. I just have to give future scholars something to speculate. Gotta fuck with ’em, ya know?

Avast me hearties (yeah, sometimes we go pirate) my day began when my chariot whisked me to my place of employment (hey, gotta have a day job until this deity thing kicks in). The day began as many others. Checking of the hallowed email, listening to the sanctioned hymns, searching the sanctified pockets to make sure I had enough for the reverent coffee.

As of this moment in our day I’m sure you’re saying to yourself, “Whaddya say, gate? Are you in the know, or are you a solid bringer-downer?” (yes, we go jive also). But, remember, patience is a virgin, you little flockers.

It is when I am walking back to the office, coffee clutched in my fist, thoughts of no higher power in my head, the light was thrust upon me.

“Hi.” Greeted a specter holding aloft a treatise of some sort. It only took me a moment to see this was not a pamphlet that would interest me so I kindly (for it was still to early and caffeine free in the day to engage in badinage) turned down his offer.

“You’re going to hell it seems.”

I stop for a moment for you must give all the courtesy of your time (no matter how fleeting). I look at this person fluttering his tract in my face allowing his message of ‘Repent Sinners!’ to burn brightly in my face.

It was at that moment, when the cool fanning solidified my mind and life’s work. I took a step back because it was cold enough without some lunatic flapping shit in my face (Hey! I said courtesy of time was fleeting, didn’t I?). 

“Actually, I’m going to work.” I sayeth my zinger.

It is at this moment, with the man in front of me, carriage full of nourishment for his clan, I come up with the raison d’être (yeah, we do French) for the CCI. As the idea percolates within my soul I notice a bumper sticker on this mans vehicle.

“Hey,” I say pointing to the message all in traffic behind him beholds while he slowly drives on. “Your bumper sticker says, Jesus shall supply all your needs.”

“Yes.” The man confidently states.

“Then why are you picking up shit at a grocery store? I mean, shouldn’t He be here for you? Or at least had whipped you up a little omelet?” As this man, redder faced than the flames of hell on his announcement, pushes his cart to separate us I knew what I had to do.

And the CCI is the what I had to do.

So I set forth to give us a countermeasure for when we are approached by those who will try to sully our way of life. Those who have never said, “Yeah, I’ll have one more. What’ll it hurt?” moments before being handcuffed and forcibly tossed into a law enforcement vehicle.

And that countermeasure is a pamphlet of our own. Just a little something to carry and pass out whenever approached by a leaflet fluttering non-believer. So I give forth to the world, the words which you will carry to those who approach with annoying intent. The guiding life-force which (along with any tithes you’d be willing to send) the CCI rests upon.

Laugh or die, bitches!

Print out the revered .jpg below and carry it with you to offer to all who refuse to see the way. The CCI way!

As the hours passed I was beginning to feel the weight of my work weigh heavily upon my tummy (yes, go to kidspeak but only when we’re light-headed). Then, as hunger enveloped my being and the assets in my sanctified pockets low, it was bestowed upon my life, just as I had earlier to my feline angels, victuals from an unlikely and unintelligible source (he spaketh in not a language comprehended by me) in the form of one hardboiled egg and two bananas. Which, from this day forward will be known by all believers as ‘The Two Dicks, One Testicle Breakfast’ (click here – http://tinyurl.com/55kpxu – to see that I’m not shitting you. Which will further seal my fate as the one true guy really weird shit happens to).

I hath spokpenith!

Cover: http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b81/blabbers_bb/Zz/ccitracts.jpg

Inside: http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b81/blabbers_bb/Zz/cciinside.jpg

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21 responses to “Contemporary Comedy Institute

  1. Sign me upeth! I hath an especially large quantity of faith in thine ability to drive forth demons with thine talisman of mirth (AKA yer funny bone).

    I shall thenceforth and thusly devoutly tithe a holy portion of all mine future utterances toward the conversion of humanity to a state of chuckling, in accordance with your wise directive: “Laugh or die, bitches!”

    (With your holy permission, I shalt modifieth the directive when I speaketh to mine mother…)

  2. “Actually, I’m going back.”

    Level Five Beverage Alert in place! 😀

  3. “Religion is the opium of the masses.”

  4. Elena: Modifieth to your hearts content! As with most things in the CCI, it’s more a suggestion than any real model or advice. We’re a very bad model and all our advice ends in vice.

    TB: Ah, I knew you’d quickly become on of the leaders. But then I’ve seen the films.

    Soup: And here I thought opium was the opium of the masses.

  5. I’ll bring a case of orange robes, and some red punch. I’m already wearing a pair of Nike sneakers…

  6. Sorry Suicide, bids have closed on the concession stand and wardrobe department.

    Applications for freaky loner who lives in the belfry are still open though.

  7. Fill in the blank.

    If religion is the opium of the masses, then comedy is the [ ] of the [ ].

    Anyone?

    And opium is opium, period, except for Opium which is perfume.

    I wanna be the freaky loner who lives in the belfry! Please please please please please please. I’m freaky enough, I don’t mind heights or bats and right now I just want to be alone!

  8. If religion is the opium of the masses, then comedy is the [molasses] of the [asses].

    OH! I’m channeling Dice Clay here!

  9. Soup: I wanna be the freaky loner who lives in the belfry! Please please please please please please. I’m freaky enough, I don’t mind heights or bats and right now I just want to be alone!

    Oh sure, I HEAR the wheel squeak but is my palm FEELING any grease from said squeaky wheel?

    I’m not saying we’ll be having no bidder contracts in the CCI, not at all. I am saying we’ll be having high bidder contracts around here.

    The belfry has AWESOME cable (mainly because bats chew through the ropes so easily).

  10. That squeaky wheel you hear is me running in my hamster-cizer all night!

  11. Mr. Richard Johnson, President and CEO of HTA, Inc.

    In the future, all references to greasy palms will be deleted in the interest of keeping everyone’s masturbation habits where they belong–deeply buried in their subconscious, yet tiny minds, where their ids rule with iron fists–apparently iron fists thoroughly coated with K-Y jelly.

  12. See now, Dick, you should join the CCI and loosen the grip of death there, boy. You don’t get enough blood to your hairy head as it is. Wouldn’t want to render the brains of the outfit useless too, would ya?

  13. Soup! Why didn’t you say you had a hamster-cizer? Pick up the belfry keys next time you fill your prescriptions!

  14. Hey maybe you could drop by the belfry sometime, bring over a six and we can take turns running around on the hamster-cizer! It would be like an aerobics class! And after, we can relax and work out by doing “mug-ups” with the six!

    Or we could get really hard-core if you would spring for a keg…

  15. I don’t refill my scripts–I’m on auto delivery!!

  16. When I say the UPS guy is here, I mean it!

  17. Holy spud-fucking ass-cracker (I like to use the things I learn throughout my day)! I passed out one of our pamphlets the other day. I’m walking into a store, a guy hands me something, it takes a second for me to look at it. It says,

    “Hell is closer than you think.”

    I stopped, reached into my back pocket and handed him the CCI pamphlet. He looked at it before getting all, what was it he did? Oh yeah, quite unchristian like behavior.

    Not that he flied f-notes or anything but he got down right snippy. And the jolly Salvation Army guy with his jolly CD player playing jolly tunes of the season a month from now was right there!

    So I handed him a pamphlet.

    When I came out of the store the Salvation Army guy pointed at me and said, “Pretty funny.”

  18. I swear the CCI may end up being the best idea I’ve ever had. Okay, maybe that’s stretching things but, boy, it’s been an interesting week around the CCI offices (which, as we all know, are everywhere).

    A guy sent me an email asking if he could ask a few questions about the CCI. I told him he could email me the questions. He said it would only take a minute so wanted to do it in a chat. I didn’t think that was going to be accurate. After all, we’re already on our fourth email back and forth.

    But I put all that behind me and send him an address we could chat at. All of this, my brethren, is against my better judgement but, our work isn’t always pretty.

    I start the chat program and wait. About ten minutes later I get a message. It took me more than a minute to read his opener! He was unhappy with me. I am a blasphemer! I should not be taking religion lightly. I am destined for hell fire. Amazing. So I sent him a one line question.

    “Is that supposed to be a question?”

    The cursor blinked awaiting a reply which came,

    “Do not repeat any of my words on your Godless blog.”

    “Is that supposed to be a question?”

    I love cut and paste. Saves me so much time.

    “I will sue you.”

    “Listen to me, my zesty little zealot, you’ve taken more than the requested minute. You are obviously here just to cast stones upon my hellish visage so I’ll be going. I’m late for baby bashing practice. You have to get there early or you get stuck with all the mushy ones. They tend to loose their bounce after the third or fourth smash.”

    Before I sent that a response was already there. But, because I so fear threats of law suits (or is that locust attacks? I’ve got to get a notebook to keep track of my fears) I will not repeat his words ‘exactly’ on my gawdless blog. I’ll paraphrase his questions while giving you my exact answer.

    “Oh high and mighty deity known as Zell, you be saying da CCI is for real?”

    “Like Tinkerbell, it is if you believe.”

    “What kind of pious faced dickhead are you to build the foundation of a religion on laughter? That’s all ya guts, pal?”

    “Yes siree! That pretty much sums up the CCI foolosophy. Laugh or die, bitches! Which is offered with our if you’re not almost completely satisfied we’ll double your strife back guarantee!”

    How come people like that get so bent out of shape when you’re just having a lark? But, more important to me, why do they all seem to find me?

    I won’t bore you with the rest of his rant because I’m sure you can come up with one on your own. It was your general damnation, road to perdition slap down.

    “Thanks for the concern!” I actually responded. I know I should have logged off but, you know me, I can’t let an opportunity to put a vision so vile in someone’s head they’ll have nightmares for the rest of their life. “I’d love to stay but it’s my turn to get a hand job from jesus. Nothing like his soft hands and lubed up nail hole to make a boy happy.”

    Maybe I know why they find me. I am pretty much an evil fuck.

  19. Oh my god! I’m sure the guy’s on his knees praying for a brain injury right now. What makes people do stupid things like that?

  20. What can I tell ya? It’s probably genetic. After all, the fuck doesn’t fall far from the tard, my friend.

  21. As I have explained before, being an obnoxious, cretinesque fucktard is a somatically dominant genetic trait; the presence of the gene (genotype) causes the physical expression of the trait (phenotype). If only one parent has the gene, there is a 50% chance that each offspring will too. And since there is no sex-linkage, either male or female offspring can be affected equally.

    And don’t even get me started on that whole “Nature vs Nurture” debate thing! Simply put, if you are an asshole, and you treat your children like assholes, it just increases the chance that they will grow up to be assholes too!

    For these two reasons, the number of stupid people is increasing as the population increases, and sorry to say, but we of the CCI are dwindling. We need to get out there and recruit new members to keep our numbers strong!

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