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Non-Sequiturs by Tyler Richardson

Just as good as a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich.

Friday, September 03, 2010

That's interesting, I thought Native Americans were extinct

I have been slightly busier than normal but that is no excuse for the lack of blogging, if Erin Jackson can do it than who am I to neglect this “thing?” Let it begin…

Snoopy, from Peanuts, is a whore. He exchanges sexual favors for money. Maybe next time that he dives out of a moving automobile because things jumped up a notch above what he’s comfortable with he’ll think twice. I want my money back Snoop.

I have a cut on my arm and have no idea where it came from. I like to imagine that I’m a sleep-burglar. Now where did I put all that money?

I’m going to start referring to my “nethers” in the most disturbingly large and unattractive ways to see how far you have to go to disgust a woman. “No way you can handle me… have you ever swallowed a phone?” “Meet my only child!” “Say hello to Dr. Chubby D*ck.” “Doctors thought I had a Siamese twin that never fully developed which is why I name him Darrell, touch his face!” “My d*ck has feet.”

I have really taken to calling someone a "sandwich maker." For those unfamiliar with my tweets, that would be when someone infuriates you to the point you grab a fist full of ham and shove it right up their chute. They just helped you make a sandwich; a man sandwich. I couldn't imagine doing that to a woman, but that thought tickles me too. Sammiches!

I need some feety pajamas but I fear that I will totally stop buying clothes to wear outside of work. Once it becomes dingy I’ll look like a kid that was kicked out of his house as a toddler and just stayed homeless.

Are we all excited to see Machete?! I’m saddened that Lindsay Lohan’s “nude scene” has me grinning but I do love boobs. Alba, Rodriguez (Michelle), Lohan and some random woman playing her mother that also gets naked… I’ve never spanked it in public before but jaaam!

Apparently right after I left Brittany’s last night a fight broke out and someone pulled a knife then the cops got called. When I was told my response was “ugh, I hate cops.” If weed were legal I don’t think I’d feel this way. Who has to die to make this possible.

Weedly-related, I find it funny that when Phillip said his joke about having the heart conditions that make it impossible for him to drink or smoke, cigarettes or other, Mariya chimed in “Oooh!” We “frequent flyers” are a compassionate people, God bless you, one and all.

iTunes 10 will introduce yet another social networking tool, PING. Now everyone can know what Tyler S. is listening to. And everyone will know how much Norah Jones I really listen to. It WAS my dirty little obsession before today.

In Chicago on Monday a little girl said “Mommy, here comes a black man. Grab your purse.” I had my headphones in but definitely heard her and treated it as though I hadn’t. But once it got out of her mouth her mother shouted “Melinda!” as though she just pulled out a samurai sword and started waving it. It tickled me in hindsight but I was pretty blown away at the time.

I’m going to start shooting really random short videos for a YouTube account that doesn’t have my name attached. The first one, “You Got Served.”

“Oh boy, this whole room smells like a queef. It’s time to vacuum.”

I saw on Punchline Magazine that a man was telling a joke for $.50, or something like that, on the street and making as much as $17 an hour. I wish I thought of it, I’m so tired of working a day job. If only I weren’t too cheap to play the lottery I could be a millionaire.

“Dude you look pregnant, like really bloated but you’re glowing.”

I’m really considering getting some laxative (“Ass Drano”) and spending the weekend doing what I love. Wake, bake, toilet, nap, toilet, bake, toilet, food, bake, toilet…

Well, I must be going, I think I’m going to sleep on my keyboard for the next two hours. Enjoy, be safe and bang someone you want.


Tuesday, July 27, 2010

"Jones!" Not Indiana, Koala.

(We pick up with Koala Jones in the jungle)
Swinging from the vines he pauses, “Hmmm, wasn’t I supposed to be doing something?” He was supposed to be torturing a man he had been paid to kidnap last week. Mr. Timmly died three days before Jones even thought about that. What brought Koala Jones out to the Brazilian jungle? What else, but hot koala tail. The tribe of women that Koala Jones visits every year in July weren’t actually koalas. Despite the delicious looking women in the pornographic films you may have seen before, a lot of them are hairy legged beasts, for this Jones identifies them as koalas.

Back at the village, Jones is mid-conga line when a tiger (I don’t care if those can be found in the Brazilian jungle, Koala Jones is a bad ass) came out of the brush and stood right in front of the first conga koala. Jones dove into action before a single hair on those Brazilians’ tanned legs could be harmed. With him belt undone, yep you heard me, he jumped on the tiger’s back and rode that beast all the way into a cave. Once in the cave Jones realized this was the tiger’s home. She had brought him back to her cave for naughty things. Jones knew it because her paws were soaked to the bone. What’s a koala to do but wax that dirty, Brazilian, tiger meat ass?

In the morning Koala set out on foot with a Capri Sun drink and “after stink” that could keep a bear away. Happening upon a waterfall, Koala went for a dip, without his belt. He heard something coming, it was a group of homosexual men. Before Jones could get out someone had pulled off their clothes and hopped into the stream right on top of him. Nearly suffocating Jones under all that meat, Jones escaped and found his belt. As he walked away he heard a suggestion for “Who’s in my mouth?” He was glad he hadn’t seen or heard of that game before.

Back in NYC Koala Jones bought a pack of Starbursts. They just hit the spot.

It probably seems strange to some that Koala Jones wears a belt, but without it he would be unable to speak and inspire the world like he does. The belt once belonged to a Unicorn that happened upon Jones in the wild. The Unicorn told him that he tired of the ability to speak, because he was mythical and could never be seen by human eyes. Desperate to hear someone else speak, he gave the belt to Koala Jones. As soon as he gave the belt over, Jones attacked. Unicorn meat is believe by some to be the secret to eternal life. Jones felt nothing more than a full stomach and something that tasted like fried chicken. This would be the first kill for Jones, unfortunately it would not be his last run-in with a Unicorn, nor would they forget what he did to a fallen brother. Knowing that Unicorns are less likely to chase him in public he sought out the biggest population of people he could hide in. Koala Jones is terribly racist so China was out of the picture. But after finding a brochure for New York and seeing the level of woman offered out there he knew where he had to make his new home.

After watching the latest Robin Williams movie, Jones needed a rest, it was just so bad. Jones headed for the bedroom… a shadowy figure could be seen approaching his balcony. As Koala closed his door and prepared to sleep the night away, someone was standing on his balcony. Just as the door closed a Unicorn with fire red eyes pressed his face against the glass with an evil look.

To be continued…Peaces

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Koala Jones, episode 1

And now for the ongoing adventures of Koala Jones!

It was a Sunday, most weeks Jones spent Sundays basking on his patio snacking on Eucalyptus leaves, not today though. A phone call awoke him from his normal post-orgy sleep, he had to crawl through dirty women-strangers just to answer. “And who has me standing here buck naked at 11 AM talking on the phone?!” It was a distraught man going on and on about his missing father. The only thought that kept going through Jones’ mind was whether or not he used protection last night. He stared blankly at a mole on his palm wondering if it had always been there or if one of these women had given him something that needed urgent care. Suddenly, “So will you help me? Or do I need to call the police?” Without thought, or certainty of what had really been asked while he was distracted, Jones replied “You’ve have the wrong number, I’m not a detective.” The rest of the afternoon was spent planning his Monday… Jones’ had been paid to assassinate a CEO of an evil conglomerate.

“I don’t want to pop this thing but if you don’t tell me the security code I’m afraid it has to go!” Koala Jones was extracting information from a security guard, he was a big man but one of his testicles was in a koala death grip. He gave Jones the information he was looking for, unfortunately that testicle still had to be removed. As Jones ran up a staircase desperate to pull of his mission on time he noticed a half eaten Snickers bar on the ground; he ate it. The CEO, Mr. Timmly, had security like the president of the United States of America. Koala Jones wasn’t much for hand to hand combat, that’s why his clients love him. In keeping with his reputation of being discrete Jones’ swallowed a lot of grenades, it’s hard to identify anything when you blow it to the Stone Age. The “pick up” went according to plan, now to hide his hostage until he received further demands from his client.

Tuesday (getting to know each other):
“I hope you like The Weather Girls, because no matter what the forecast, it’s always raining men.” These were the first words that Mr. Timmly heard while coming out of a dream. Looking around he couldn’t place if he was in a basement or if he was in an attic, either way it smelled heavily of ammonia. “What’s that smell? Where am I? What the f*** is that smell?!” Mr. Timmly asked. He was being hidden in Koala Jones’ poop room, the other rooms had sleeping women fresh off a Monday night orgy and they could not be disturbed. “I’m sorry I had to put you in my poop room, I had no where else to put you. Mayonnaise?” Though he declined the mayo, Mr. Timmly questioned why a Koala had kidnapped him and what he wanted. Jones replied “Well, it appears you’re an adulterer, your wife doesn’t think much of that. She is paying me a lot of money to send her pictures of you being tortured. So, I’m going to play this Weather girls song until you beg me to stop. Then, when I feel you’ve truly had enough, I’m going to put on the entire series of Friends and you’ll watch every episode.” Confused Mr. Timmly asked “And after that I can just go?” Koala Jones responded “No, then she wants a picture of you dead. Enjoy this song and enjoy the series.”

Koala came into the room, he pooped, then he left. Mr. Timmly was still enjoying the song It’s raining men. Unrelated: Nothing good came on The Movie Channel that night, nothing good ever comes on The Movie Channel.

To be continued... with car crashes, laxative drinks and more sex than you can shake a stick at. Check back soon.


Monday, July 12, 2010

I can't diagnose that, because I'm not a doctor.

Two thugs in an alleyway:
#1: Step, Step, pivot, smile, dip… no! How many times are you gonna flex right there when you know it’s dip?!
#2: Sorry, I don’t even know where my head is at.
#1: Maybe the King and I isn’t something you care about anymore. Maybe you’d rather not turn a classic into an all black rock opera that takes us outta the ghetto and away from this life.
#2: You that ain’t true, I just had to bury another homeboy that got caught up in the mix yesterday. Damn this penis!
#1: It wasn’t your dick’s fault that Jerry tried to get a taste and turned to drugs when you denied him. It was wrong, he was family… and you ain’t gay. Now c’mon, from the downbeat…
#2: (sniff) Let’s roll!

I’ve begun planting money in hopes that a money tree will form. If I’m gonna move I will need at least $72 dollars. C’mon money tree.

“No, no more Ziti for me, it’s Ramadan.”

Let us take a moment of silence for the first man to slap a woman’s ass and mean it as a compliment. Respect must also be given to the first freak (in a good way) to take the compliment and sleep with said man. Respect

“Excuse me Miss, but how many times am I going to have to make quips about the day before you ask me my name? I want some Tang and I thought I was being a gentleman about this; but you gon make me go the other way. So, Spain won the World Cup huh?”

Sex is a crafty distraction put in front of us by the Plutonians. Do they know they succeeded? Good question, I prefer to think they didn’t plan how long it would take to get here correctly.

I want Chipotle so bad I’m doing the pee pee dance. Wait… no, apparently I had to urinate. Damn, why do I always guess wrong?

I’ve been listening to Mariya Alexander’s podcast since Friday, I’m addicted. Don’t know why I jumped on the bus so far after everyone else, but me likey. I would like to go on with Jack of All Trades and hear his side of the story. “What story?” Pick one, I guarantee there are plenty of stories in his past worth our time.

Bad grammar makes me grip the hilt of my sword. I’m just old fashioned that’s all.

Harry Belafonte (pictured above, looking just as sensual as always) is the constant in every conga line in the 21st century. Bless him…

“Lotion…” Huh? “Lotion is what someone with ashy hands like your needs most.” Oh, actually I’m just here for stamps, does the post office sell lotion? “Nope, I just didn’t want you to shake someone unsuspecting person’s hand and cut anybody. Stamps are $5.00.”

Looking back, I cabbage patch while getting ready to go anywhere, far too often. I’m totally abusing the running man.

M’kay, I’m off to stare at my soda bottle until it’s lunch time. Hooray!


Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Is that fried chicken I smell cooking? (no) Oh.

Local news: I need a haircut, currently I appear to auditioning for the role of Slave #2.

I’m way too excited to meet John Witherspoon, I don’t want to come off as a d*ck rider, but tattooing “Bang Bang Bang” on my neck isn’t too much right? C’mon August…

I have my precious iPhone 4 now, to all those who are without I feel your pain. Not really, last night I made love to it and then we feel asleep in our mess. I work hard, I play hard (begins dancing to Teach Me How to Dougie).

Hopefully everyone caught the great Louis C.K.’s new show LOUIE on FX last night. If you missed it, you are not loved. You have my sympathy; catch a repeat and a whole basket of God’s love.

July 13th feels like it’s an ocean away but soon Curren$y "Spitta" will grace us with his new album and tiny angels will come down and kiss the faces of those who purchase it. Every time that you put the album on repeat the angel will return to whisper something in your ear that is pleasant to hear. “You are very attractive and your breath smells like delicious Fruit by the Foot.”

I’m trying to work on a joke about Pachyderms, I could say elephant but that term has always made me laugh. Plus, it makes me think of Babar.

National news: Chris Brown didn’t want to be known for beating women so instead he will be referred as a b*tch. That is all.

I hate being a victim of a stereotype but guess which soda I’m drinking: A) Orange B) Grape C) Sprite? See below for the answer…

I’m infatuated with “Yo Momma” jokes right now. I make them to myself and try to lock them away for the moment that an opportunity presents itself. Example: “I have to pick up some more Mr. Bubbles.” Why? “Because your mother was over last night and used the whole bottle. She really loves that stuff.” Zing!

Two wrongs don’t make a right… Hey! You, little kid! Get away from my car before I take a sh!t on your skateboard and make you eat it! Sorry; where was I?

I was in NY on Sunday and Monday, when I arrived it was right in the middle of gay pride festivities. I have never been exposed to that much gay in my entire life. It looked like the most fun a gay person could have, I feel like calling it “a gay person’s Mardi Gras” isn’t doing it justice. And the beautiful women, my God! Something still seems off-putting about watching two gigantic, ripped, brick-sh!t house men giving piggy backs across the street but hey, what can you do? I also got to chill and joke with the Fowlest for awhile, I miss him being around but perhaps I’ll do what all DC people do and move. Perhaps…

Anyone not watching the Boondocks this season is only hurting themselves. “I like you, and I wants you.” They’ll catch up eventually.

Well, I must go and feed the creature I keep chained down on floor zero. If he doesn’t get his mashed up taters he starts morphing into something horrible.


Friday, June 25, 2010

Do I have to put something nasty in your mouth to make you frown?

I wrote a blog a few days ago but it met a tragic, programmer, error. While I was wrapping it up, a programmer needed to work at my desk for a minute and with the document out and my supervisor standing over him staring at it he asked “Do you want to save this?” I said “No, just delete it please.” Since it was a couple of pages long he asked again, while she tries to speed read, and I urged him to just do it. I had gold on there, now we’ll never know…

“Frown…frown harder…harder! Do you want me to put something nasty in your mouth to make you frown?!”

Today’s word of the day is marmalade, when used it cannot be talking about the condiment. Example: “I don’t care how get in done, marmalade that ass right up the ladder and get that boomerang you begged me to buy you. Before I lose patience with you.”

Things I hope I don’t have to answer for in the afterlife:
-Laughing repeatedly at my co-worker’s “challenged” daughter
-Not voting in the presidential election when Kerry lost to Bush
-My fetish for grapes (what does that mean?)
-Fantasies as a slave owner, white slaves
-Daydreams where I gain a superpower and become a villain instantly
-Mary Jane

My friend Jessie and I were joking about someone with a ridiculously big “junk” that trailed behind them like some horrible snake. “Hey, you know your d*ck is up here at the top of the stairs?” Sorry, (tug, tug, tug) is it gone now? “Yeah, thanks, I just don’t like when it stairs at me while I’m eating. I feel like I should feed it or something.

When did the Black Eyed Peas become the Beatles? They’re huge!

The FedEx tracking number for my iPhone 4 is 431939755515. Feel free to keep your eyes open for it.

A comedy trip with some friends this weekend, can’t wait. Everything tends to get silly when a bunch of silly people go somewhere different. Then things stop getting silly, and start getting REAL. The Real World: New York Again Part 4

Am I going to be a 70-year-old man waiting on A Tribe Called Quest to come back?

I ate fried chicken from Popeye’s today, but I ate it so fast there was no time to take a picture to go up top. So I went with Snuffy.

Alright, I’m out, but I will have many good things to talk about when next back at the helm.


Friday, June 18, 2010

Put on a shirt?! I'm a war hero, you're welcome!

Only one story on my plate worth sharing today, the large group of handicapped people that came into the Comedy Spot last night right in time for Hot Broth. These people were obviously physically and mentally handicapped and some comics even tried being nice and asking if they were lost. I assume half of the question is trying to be helpful and the other half just wants a bad situation to be removed. Sadly, there was no improv show, just rehearsal so they were there for the open mic. Let the games begin!

Ahmed began the show as host and went up and ignored the elephant in the room pretty well. It couldn’t have taken more than three seconds into his first words before one of them made a noise. This noise would be best described as what Carlos Mencia is trying to imitate when you lets loose his battle cry. I’m not proud to say it, but this is where I began to lose it. I had the perfect seat for looking into Ahmed’s soul and whether he was just trying to look straight ahead or looking right at me, it was hilarious the look he wore while trying to ignore the obvious. I looked around in my fit of inward-giggling and noticed that no one else was really laughing for anything. I was a ball of silly, and whoever the creepy guy next to me with rape face was, knew it. I was looking to the ground with tears in my eyes when one jumped up.

The woman needed to use the restroom, and the guardian person did not want her to at that time. They fought about it in front of Ahmed for several seconds. Then finally the guardian grabs the woman’s arm and got the woman to sit, for about five seconds, then she popped back up and went hauling a$$ for the door. The guardian chased and they left the others to enjoy another 5 minutes, at most, of comedy. Ahmed finished up and brought on Eli, after asking if anyone had sex (a lot of replies were yes) a woman made the “noise” again. People laughed a little harder and Eli said “grow up guys” then all of the handicapped guests stood up and hauled a$$. It was weird, but I’m glad I didn’t have to try and perform with something that uncomfortable going on. I know I would’ve laughed so Ahmed, kudos to you. I liken it try to stay on topic while a guy in the front row slowly and methodically reached out for your junk. The urge to slap his fingers would be too strong, and I’d probably laugh at his horrible attempt to unass some of that shoot (slang for going for the hog).

When I told Nelson about it last night we had a laugh that generally only comes from XTREME tickling.

Curren$y’s Pilot Talk comes out on June 22nd! Jets fool…


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I blog during work to keep from sleeping. Unless people from my job are monitoring this, in which case "I love my job; I have a family". My dog Max is the man too. Other than that I think reading this blog gives a pretty good idea of what I'm about. Red Jell-o, need I say more.

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