Read I Had the Right to Remain Silent...But I Didn't Have the Ability Online

Authors: Ron White

I Had the Right to Remain Silent...But I Didn't Have the Ability (8 page)

BOOK: I Had the Right to Remain Silent...But I Didn't Have the Ability

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I get back outside with my glasses, and I examine this turd carefully. And I can just make out these words in raised letters: MIDLAND PARK GOLF COURSE. It's a golf glove that Sluggo has eaten, and shat, whole. Velcro and all.

I rinsed it off, and I've been playing with it for two weeks. Is that wrong?

I have never in my life shat a whole golf glove. I shat a rubber glove one time. It said JOHNS HOPKINS on it.

O
n that tour in Florida I mentioned earlier, we stayed at the Don CeSar hotel in St. Petersburg. It's this great old hotel, built in the 1920s.

We always look for pet-friendly hotels. And the Don CeSar is like overly pet friendly--ridiculously pet friendly. They have a pet concierge that'll come to your room and tell you the services they can offer your pet.

They said, "You can give your pet a massage while you're here."

I'm like, "Oh, sure. I'll buy Sluggo a massage. But I'm gonna tell you right now, he's gonna want a happy ending. This dog loves to get jacked off."

They said they had aromatherapy for pets. I'm like, "What are you gonna make it smell like, ass? That's what he likes. Do you have an ass candle for him?"

Give your home the fresh smell of ass, with your new ass candle.

W
e played the Foxwoods Casino last January in Connecticut. That's the biggest casino in the world. Or it was then.

The people at the Foxwoods Casino were nice enough to let us park our tour bus in a remote parking lot. We're gonna live on the bus while we're there, and we don't want to be too close to all the coming and going at the casino.

Now, the way they came up with the designation "remote parking lot" is this parking lot is nowhere remotely fucking near the biggest casino in the world. Couldn't even see the place from there, right?

The Northeast gets slammed with the biggest snow-storm they've had in ten years. But I've still gotta walk the dogs in the morning. And there's a thermometer on the bus that says what the temperature is outside the bus. And it was zero. And my wife hollers out from the back of the bus, "What's the temperature outside?"

And I said, "There's not one. This place doesn't seem to have a temperature."

No matter what the temperature is, I still gotta walk the dogs, because my wife ain't gonna do it. Not the empress. No, no, no.

So I'm walking the dogs, right? And they pee, right? Which makes me want to pee. It's freezing outside.

My dick is like this:

And normally it's like this:

Huge cock.

It's not long, but it's big around, like a cheese wheel.

"I may not touch bottom, but I will stretch out the edges, with my
cheeeese
wheel. Don't be afraid."

R
ight after that I went to Fairbanks, Alaska. And my manager's prediction that there wouldn't be a lot of snow in Fairbanks in February was off by about seven and a half fucking feet.

I was stranded in Fairbanks, Alaska, folks, for three days. Count 'em: One, tick . . . tock . . . tick . . . THE FUCK TOCK. Stranded there with the Eskimo people. Not a great-looking group of folks.

And I mentioned that onstage, and they got pissed off. And I didn't see why they got so mad. I didn't insinuate that they had no character. I mentioned that they weren't attractive. I thought they knew. Turns out I let some big cat out of the bag.

Have you seen their teeth? They could make keys.

Anyway, I got this scathing letter from the head Eskimo, Frosty or whatever the fuck his name was. Like halfway through the letter, it said that he would have me know that the Eskimo tribe was one of the purest races on the planet.

And I was like, that's kind of what I'm talking about. Nobody will fuck these people.

And then later in the letter it said that there were less and less Eskimos every year. So I guess it's getting to where they won't even fuck each other.

D
id you hear about the bear they killed up in Alaska? You can see it on the Internet. It was the biggest bear ever recorded in the history of--records.

This grizzly bear was so big, that when it stood on its hind legs it was fourteen feet tall. It could walk up to the average single-story house and look over the top of it.

Now, the bear was killed by a forest ranger, who was out there doing his forest ranger stuff. And then this big grizzly bear charges him, and he's got a 7 mm magnum pistol. He unloads it on the bear, shoots him seven times. And the bear keeps coming.

You know there's a stain developing somewhere, I guarantee you. But this forest ranger reloads and shoots the bear seven more times, kills it. This guy's got balls to the max.

I would have crumpled like a cheap suit. I'd a been laying there praying the bear just wanted to fuck me.

I wonder if it likes blow jobs.
"Hello, Mr. Bear."

And then I'd shit in my pants just to ruin his meal.

That ain't even the half of it. They're gonna stuff this thing and put it on display in the Anchorage airport. As just kind of a warning to tourists: "Don't go wandering off into the fucking woods, idiot."

So they're examining this bear, and they find five slugs from a .38 pistol in his chest. Then they open up the bear, and they find the gun and the guy who shot it. I shit you not.

Even I know better than to walk into a grizzly bear forest with a .38. What are you going to do, scare a bear with a .38? The bear doesn't know what a fucking gun is.

You can wear handguns in Alaska. We were in a bar, and a guy comes in with a .38 strapped to his side.

I asked, "What are you gonna do with that gun?"

He said, "I'm gonna hunt bear."

I said, "You know what? Here's a little trick. File the sight off the front of the gun."

He said, "Why? So it doesn't affect my aim if the bear gets too close?"

I said, "No, so you don't chip your tooth when you stick it in your mouth to commit suicide, rather than be torn limb from limb while you're still alive to feel it."

And then they were blaming the bear. They said he was a bad bear. He wasn't a bad bear. He was a really old bear. He's tired. But he's smart. He's looking at a deer running 35 miles an hour, and he's looking at a hiker wearing headphones listening to Fleetwood Mac.

The bear's like, "I think I'll have the hiker buffet."

T
he most dangerous bear of all is the polar bear, did you know that? That's the most dangerous game animal in the world.

More people are killed in zoos by polar bears than by any other animal in the history of--animals. And you can blame Coca-fucking-Cola commercials for that.

"Let's make the most dangerous animal on the planet look like it needs a hug."