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Laughter Or Blood

By John Saleeby
June 16, 2001

"Sometimes the future of a nation can hinge on the integrity of one man"
Mark Bowden, "Killing Pablo"

I told those punk ass retards who created Nutty that they weren't funny and should just go offline but they wouldn't listen. And people who don't listen don't count, got it? Sent em just one last e mail warning them that if they stunk up the net with just one more issue of those stupid 'Funny News Stories' I was going to be putting them out of business myself. But did they listen? No, they did not and you know what I say about people who don't listen, right? You WERE listening, right? Cause if you weren't you just may be in for a little bit of what I gave to the miserable losers of Nutty And you do not want that.

I knew from their 'Masthead' ( The nerve of those pricks to have a "Masthead", they were beggin' for it from the very beginning ) that Nutty was slapped together by a guy named Ron Chelsey, another fool named Dave Kelman, and a real piece of garbage who called himself Colonel Colon and drew terrible cartoons about guys moving their bowels in various "humorous" situations. If it wasn't for their association with Colonel Colon I could have been persuaded to show Chelsey and Kelman a little mercy, but they picked their horse and they made their bets and when you work with shit you smell like shit and birds of a feather get eaten together . . . These were the phrases that ran through my mind as I made my way to meet these characters, these were the principles that have guided me to do what I have done.

May 24, Somewhere In Florida
Chelsey and Kelman were tied to a couple of chairs in a small shed out in the woods. They hadn't eaten in three days and every time they fell asleep I'd punch em in the nose. Chelsey finally broke down crying and begging to know what it was I wanted. Kelman, however, was a tough son of a bitch who clearly was not about to give in. So, just to push Chelsey over the edge I shot Kelman in the face with a thirty-eight, cut his brain leaking head off, and dropped it in Chelsey's lap.

"What do you want? What do you want?" he squealed.

"Colonel Colon." I said "Give me Colonel Colon and you'll make it through this alive."

He was talking before I could finish that lying bullshit about him making it out alive.

"Dennis! Dennis is Colonel Colon!"

"Dennis? Dennis who? Colonel Dennis Colon?"

"No! No! Dennis Schaeffer! He works with me at the liquor store! Dennis Schaeffer!"

I picked up a chainsaw.

"You remember that part I said about you making it through this alive?" "Yeah?"

"That was just a bad joke."

He just looked at me with his mouth hanging open. He looked like a sap.

"After all the bad jokes you put me through with Nutty I figure I owe you at least one."

And then I cut his legs off, threw gasoline all over the place, and lit it up.

I sat on the hood of the Saleebymobile and watched the flames spread to the trees.

"I told you guys you weren't funny. I told you and I told you but you still wouldn't stop. You weren't funny and now you're dead. You were stupid and now you're dead."

I got in the car and drove out of the woods while I still could. Cause I'm not stupid. And I'm funny, too.

I walked into the liquor store, Colonel Dennis Colon was behind the counter giving a red nosed old juicer his change for a fifth of vodka.

"Colonel Colon!" I shouted "Your friends Chelsey and Kelman sent me!"

"Chelsey? Kelman?"

"Yeah, but don't worry about them - They're dead."

I pulled out a .357 Magnum and a pile of Colonel Colon cartoons I'd copied with my printer.

"Look at this." I said to the old drunk. "Look at these cartoons your friendly neighborhood liquor store clerk has been drawing, Mister. Look - Colonel Colon taking a dump in some guy's aquarium. How about that?"

"That's terrible."

"It's terrible! Look at this one - Colonel Colon dropping a load in some little kid's sand box. Whattya think about that?"

"That's disgusting!"

"It's disgusting! Here's another one, Pops! Colonel Colon taking a shit on homeplate in the middle of a Little League game! You like that?"

"I hate it!"

"So do I! Colon, colon, colon! Hey, where exactly is a colon, anyway? Down here?" I asked and sliced Dennis' gut open with a hunting knife and hopped behind the counter with him as his intestines spilled out.

"Oh, that's awful!" the old man said as I held a fistful of pooh plumbing in front of Colonel Colon's screaming red face.

"Yeah! There's your colon right there, Colonel! Real funny, eh? Let's see what happens when I shove the end in your mouth and squeeze it? Now, THAT'S funny! Let's see if you've got room in your mouth for this . . . " And I put the barrel of the .357 in his mouth and blew his head off.

The old guy threw the cartoons onto the mess I'd made out of Colonel Colon and said "To Hell with him. I didn't see a thing."

"You didn't see a thing?" I asked with disappointment "I disemboweled the creep and blew his brains out for you! What have I gotta do to get a rise out of you people? Rip out his heart, throw it into a waffle iron, and feed it to a truck driver with butter and maple syrup?"

We were out in the parking lot by then.

"I don't need that, I was in Korea! " he said as he got in his car and opened his vodka.

"Eh, if they don't send you overseas you just gotta find an excuse to do it right here at home." I said, suddenly realizing that I was standing out there in the open with the .357 still in my hand.

"No foreign commie could piss me off as much as that asshole in there." the old man said, had a good long drink, and started up his car.

So that was the end of Nutty, not at all that different from the end of Wally's Wacky Web Page,,, and a couple of others I can't mention because the cops have reportedly picked up on a couple of clues I foolishly left behind and I don't want to draw any more heat. Not that I am unwilling to take responsibility for my crimes - But not before I get to see Matthew Broderick in "The Producers"!

A Warning From John Saleeby To All The Crappy Humor Sites I Can't Be Bothered To Mention But Whose Staff Members I Would Be Happy To Track Down And Gouge Their Eyes Out, Drive Nails Into Their Knees, Chomp Their Noses Off, Rip Their Wind Pipes Out, Blast Them In The Gut With A Shotgun Fill The Resulting Wounds With Canned Dog Food And Throw Em Into A Crowded Veterinarian Waiting Room: No more of these stupid 'Fake News Stories', that crap is almost as annoying as Jennifer Love Hewitt's laugh. Oh, I know what you're saying ( I'm monitoring your e mails and phone calls, it doesn't take a lot of effort, you weasels don't have any friends ), "What about The Onion? Huh? Huh? What about The Onion? The Onion does fake news stories all the time? Huh? What about The Onion?" Yes, The Onion does that shit, but The Onion has cash to invest in a top notch security team to protect their cumguzzling editorial staff from The Saleeby Treatment with electric fences, surveillance towers, guard dogs, and loudspeakers blasting recordings of Janeane Garofalo's stand up act. You can't afford that so, if you don't want to spend the final moments of your life wondering if modern medicine has developed a method of reattaching the right side of your body to the left side, give up on the "Bush Forgets Middle Initial" stuff. Not that The Onion and that Modern Humorist mess have got it made, it's just that before Hitler conquered Poland and France he had to spend twenty years killing every other German crank who thought he was going to be the one to conquer Poland and France. So don't wind up like those poor fools in the Bavarian Frog And Polack Haters Society, wise up to the inevitable truth that you'll never taste the delicious thrill of our enemy's destruction until you bow your head and start taking orders from me, John Saleeby - Lord Of Lobsters, Lepers, And Lutherans! Think it over, Hicks - Either take down those dumb ass web sites of yours and spend all your time telling people how great John Saleeby and Acid Logic is or start spending as much time alone as possible - We don't want to have any of that "collateral damage" jazz, if you know what I mean.


John Saleeby wrote for The National Lampoon while he was in high school, was a stand up comic in New York, and has contributed to the net humor zines, Campaign Central, and the legendary American Jerk. He's on medication now so he's probably a little nicer now than he was when you met him earlier.
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