Private Parts (45 page)

"Bend over!"

And if that doesn't work because you're so damn ugly, all you have to do is stick your dick into a glory hole.

Gay bars take a wall and drill some holes into it so you can have totally anonymous sex. You just stick your dick through a hole in the wall and someone on the other side starts sucking you. I could never go to one of those places because I'm so small. I couldn't reach the other side of the wall.

One of the more interesting things I receive in the mail over and over again is a list of objects gay guys put in their asses. One thing is certain, this is definitely a guy thing. Women don't seem to shove a lot of stuff up there. Men are weird. We've got really bad habits.

Here's a list of things doctors have harvested from men's asses. Imagine spending all those years in medical school only to specialize in doing this.

Some doctor actually chronicled these items and detailed the information for a medical journal, so if any politically correct scumbag thinks I'm making this stuff up, you're full of shit.

These guys' asses are like garages. They store stuff in their holes and then forget about junk that's in there. How do you forget about stuff that you lodged in your ass?

LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THESE THINGS:

1. A bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's syrup. (Now that's a big bottle, complete with her head and those big round shoulders.)

2. An ax handle.

3. A plastic spatula.

4. A Coke bottle.

5. An antenna rod.

6. A 150-watt lightbulb. (That's very thin glass.)

7. A screwdriver.

8. Four rubber balls.

9. A paperweight.

10. An onion.

11. A frozen pig's tail.

12. A broomstick.

13. An eighteen-inch umbrella handle. (Ouch! And all this disappeared? I don't understand it. This can't be possible.)

14. An oil can.

15. A toolbox weighing twenty-two ounces. (This was in a medical journal. It's not as if I'm reading this in the
Enquirer.)

16. A flashlight.

17. A turnip.

18. A pair of eyeglasses.

19. A polyethylene waste trap from a u-bend of a sink. (What the hell is going on? I mean, you walk into the kitchen and look at the drain and say, "I know what to do with that. I'll stick it in my ass"?)

20. A live, shaved, declawed gerbil.

The gerbil thing is pretty wacky. They shave the hair off the gerbil, clip its nails, break its teeth out, put it in the freezer for a few minutes, then put Vaseline on it, and shoot it up with coke. Then they insert a tube up their rectums and squeeze one end and the gerbil runs up the tube into the tushy. As the gerbil starts fighting for air, it's supposed to create a really erotic sensation. Who would think of this? Someone ought to call the ASPCA. Someone called them on me once because I was doing a show with a guy who ate live mice dipped in olive oil. Five ASPCA marshals came down and threatened to arrest me.

Vinnie D'Amico offered to eat a mouse at my live show.

But the weirdest story was reported in the
Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology.
It seems that one guy had his life mate pour a batch of concrete mix into his ass through a funnel while he lay on his back with his feet against the wall at a precise forty-five-degree angle. After a few hours the concrete hardened and it became so painful he had to go to the hospital. Under general anesthesia, his anus was dilated and two catheters were inserted. A suction was created and they chiseled the concrete cast of his rectum out. The best part was they found a Ping-Pong ball inside the concrete!

Meanwhile, a lot of these guys are putting the goddamn Eiffel Tower up their butts without incident, for the most part, and
I'm
the one with the anal fissures. Go figure.

One time I was sitting in my office and I noticed an ad in the paper for the Gay Party Line. I decided to call it because I wanted to see just how far I could go before I made a gay man throw up from disgust.

"Hi. I'm six-foot-five, I weigh 190 pounds, and I have a tongue like an anteater," I proudly announced. There were a bunch of voices immediately responding to my sexy voice.

One deep masculine voice gasped, "Hey, you sound cute. Let's get a private line." I dove right in: "I want to shave your balls. I want to drop some scalding hot candlewax on your scrotum."

He was getting really turned on. He actually wanted me to burn his scrotum. He was hot for me. Suddenly an operator interrupted.

"You two are getting very graphic. Exchange phone numbers and call each other on your own." Evidently the operator's job was to make sure that homos like me don't get too obscene. Something to do with the FCC again. They never leave me alone.

I told the operator I wasn't ready to give out my number because I still had a few questions for my friend to see if he was my type. She said, "Fine, but nothing too graphic."

"Are you still there?" I said in my seductive voice.

"Yes."

"You know what I really want to do to you?" I had to think quick about what would turn this guy off. "I want to ... piss in your ass."

He moaned with lust... there was no stopping him. Thank God the operator threw me off the Gay Party Line. I hadn't even gotten to the concrete and Ping-Pong ball discussion. I'm probably

the only guy ever thrown off a Gay Party Line.

Over the years, I've gotten so many complaints from humorless listeners about my gay material that I decided to write a hate letter to myself:

Dear Mr. Stern,

At 6:30 A.M. on September 3, you referred to a gay couple as a pair of lunch pushers and made references to them opening beer cans with their sphincters. Horrifying.

At 8:45 on September 18, you called a gay caller a weenie genie and asked him if he really thought other men's private parts were a party ... which is
so mean.

At 8:15 on September 22, you said Rock Hudson died of botulism
-- bad meat in the can -- which the gay community found unfunny and terribly offensive.

At 9:15 on October 2, you made the so-called joke "What do Henry the Eighth, Rock Hudson, and Donald Manes have in common? They all screwed Queens and died." Also not funny, Mr. Stern.

At 7:00 on October 23, you referred to a homosexual caller as a log breath, a B.V. Deviant, a tube-steak Tarzan, and a flagpole sitter from the Baloney Cavalry. So incredibly demeaning.

On December 3, you again berated a gay caller with an endless list of rude homosexual nicknames, including bun splitters, tonsil jockeys, knob gobblers, pickle chuggers, bone smugglers, worm worshipers and Hanes grazers ... did I miss one?

On December 22, you did a ten-minute soliloquy on your personal AIDS research and made comments about the laboratory rats not cooperating because they were always at the ballet. This, you putz, even
I
laughed at.

I'm sure I'll never win an award from any gay group, but I think I've actually done a few things to make people more tolerant of different lifestyles. Here's Donahue pandering to ridiculous and insulting stereotypes of gay men by parading a bunch of drag queens around as a symbol of homosexuality, and GLAAD (Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation) gives him an award.

Ninety-nine percent of the gay community isn't running around in drag. Why are they honoring him?

I haven't won any awards, but I've given some award-winning

performances in skits such as Lean on Meat, Gay Squirty Dancing, Gay Wall Street, Raging Bulimic, Gay Bonanza, Butt Cheek Fever, Homo Pyle, 2010: A Gay Space Oddity, and my three favorites, Homocop, Buttman, and My Gay Left Foot.

Although I am very tolerant of the gay lifestyle, there is one aspect of it that I truly abhor.

NAMBLA, the North

American Man Boy Love

Association. These guys are twisted! They advocate sexual

relations between grown men and underage boys. One time on the air I called the NAMBLA hot

line and was totally repulsed

when a guy who sounded like a cross between Count Dracula and Jose Jimenez delivered the following message:

"Hello, this is NAMBLA... if you're a boy, do not despair, be true to your feelings. Times will change and your oppression will end. If

you're a man, be safe, be brave, and above all be proud to be a boy

lover."

On second thought, the guy on the NAMBLA message sounded just like Ricky Ricardo. Listening to that I imagined what it might have been like if Ricky had decided to call NAMBLA. I asked my favorite artist, Drew Friedman, to illustrate how I imagined Lucy would react if she discovered that Fred and Ricky were having sex with young boys. I'm excited to present to you my first cartoon ever of the most offensive subject I could imagine:

The television epic Gay

Munsters. From left to right:

Robin, Grandpa Al Lewis, me as

Gay Herman, Fred
as
Lily, Gary
as Eddie, and Jackie as Marilyn.

Cartoon

More, More, More, More and More Hate Mail

You have no talent, looks, class, or any redeemable social value. You have as much appeal as watching cottage cheese turn rancid. As far as your nose is concerned, It looks like the business end of an enema tube. As for Quivers, I'm surprised you haven't inserted plates in her lips and used her to rest coffee cups on. Your show(s) should be shown to prisoners awaiting the death sentence as an alternative. What's with that mass of weeds you call hair? You are so ugly, you could replace medusa. It also looks like you cultivated your staff in a toxic dump. Stuttering John should have been terminated at birth. Tell Gary that a padded coat hanger makes a good butt plug. Fred should be force fed a mouth's worth of morning tooth crust from pig-boy Dell 'Abate.' And as for Jackie, it shows what can happen if syphilis goes untreated.

STERN...YOU UGLY KIKE JEWBASTARD:

You use the word MAFIA (THE JEW DISEASE). You say Italy changes Governments a lot...Not tru lately! ITALY HAS THE FIFTH GREATEST ECONOMY IN THE WORLD!!!! AND WE ASK NOTHING OF THE U.S. UNLIKE THE SLIMY COUNTRY OF ISRAEL....YOUR COUNTRY. THESE FAGGOT JEWS ALWAYS FIGHTING AND BEGGING THE U.S. FOR MONEY. THAT'S PARTLY WHY YOU HATE GEORGE BUSH. GOD BLESS HIM HE WON'T GIVE YOUR FAGGOT STATE OF ISRAEL THE $10,000,000,000. SPEAK OF YOUR CONTRY OF ISREAL JEW SLIME STERN...THE BEGGING ARAB KILLING OF BEASTS OF YOUR COUNTRY OF ISREAL AND FIMALLY JEW BASTARD STERN, KEEP OUT OF POLITICS....YOU DON'T KNOW SQUAT ABOUT POLITICS...STICK TO SEX AND FILTH AND YOUR UGLY JEW WIFE STINKING AND SNORING AND FARTING AND MAY YOU AND YOUR SLIMY FAMILY DIE SCREAMING FOR ALL THE HURT YOU CAUSE ALL OTHERS. YOU ARE THE JEW DEMON. THE DREK OF THE WORLD. DIE.

Dear Howie:

Our membership voted today to pray for the following:

Your ratings go to zero.

You lose the show.

You go broke.

Your wife leaves. Takes the children to her mother's. Gets a court order, you can not visit.

You get AIDS and cancer.

You join the homeless and linger for five years among the homeless.

A charity benefit is held for you in MSG. No one shows except the director of the FCC. He gives you five dollars. You fall to your knees and kiss his hand.

Burial is held at NYC Potter's field. No one shows except the entire staff of the FCC. They all piss on your grave and then attend the sold out celebration at Yankee Stadium.

If there is anything else we can do, please call.

I feel sorry for you Howard. You are a man caught inside a world of his own ego. Who are all these fictitious people that are always mauling you where ever you go? Honestly Howard do you really think that you are that recognizable. You look just like about 500,000 other tall black hair, big nosed Jews that live in New York City. There are no people bothering you Howard it is all part of some warped make believe world. A world that you have conjured up to support your own ego problem. You are worse than the addicts you occasionally make fun of. You have the worst addiction anyone could possibly have. You Mr. Stern, are addicted to, Howard Stern.

The Comics

Kinison, Dice, Seinfeld, and More

Chapter 15

Comics love appearing on my show. Are they attracted to me because of my brilliant wit, my intense interviewing skills, or my incredible improvisational abilities? The truth is that just like everyone else, they use me. " '"'

Nobody loves me. They all come on my show because they know that a plug to my audience guarantees them a sell-out crowd at Goofy's, Zany's, or whatever godforsaken little club they're appearing in.

I've always been jealous of anyone who earns a living passing judgment on the talent of others. I will now attempt to set myself up as a critic with the hope that
USA Today
will hire me to become the Mr. Blackwell of comedy. This will enable me to fulfill my lifelong desire to quit my radio career and do something fulfilling . . . criticizing other people in print.

STERN PICKS WHO'S HOT, WHO'S NOT

THE THREE GREATEST MINDS IN COMEDY

Sam Kinison --
Most natural, most spontaneous of all.
Eddie Murphy --
O
ne
of the greatest stand-ups of all time.
Jackie Mason --
You
want to hate him, then when you see his show, he wins you over. He's great.

Jay Leno -- Funny.

Johnny Carson -- Not funny. Richard Pryor -- Funny. ; Larry Miller -- I don't know who he is. Tim Allen -- Not funny.

Paul Reiser -- Not funny. Robin Williams -- Not funny. Rita Rudner -- Not funny. Bill Cosby -- Not funny. Never was. Steve Allen -- Not funny now. Alan King -- Funny until he did those stupid Toyota commercials. Elayne Boosler -- Lame.

Jerry Seinfeld -- Funny. Richard Lewis -- Funny. Billy Crystal -- Funny. Richard Belzer -- Funny.