Jack Schitt married Noo Schitt and they produced six children. Holy Schitt, their first, passed on shortly after childbirth. Next came twins sons, Deep Schitt and Dip Schitt; two daughters, Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt; and another son, Bull Schitt.

Deep Schitt married Lotta Schitt and they had a son Chicken Schitt.

Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt married the Happens brothers. The Schitt-Happens children are Dawg Schitt, Byrd Schitt, and Horace Schitt.

Bull Schitt married a spicy number, Pisa Schitt, and they had a child named Ape Schitt. Three days after the arrival of Ape Schitt, Bull and Pisa died in a car accident; Ape survived.

Luckily Ape got adopted by the Asse family. Jack Asse and his infertile wife Lard Asse changed Ape’s name to Phukin. Phukin was a stud and started dating a beautiful girl named Tight when they were in high school. Phukin Asse married Tight Asse and they named thier baby Harry Asse.

Harry Asse married a Women’s Rights Activist named Yoo Hole. She wanted to keep her name, but finally the settled on calling her Yoo-Asse-Hole.

Now you know Jack Schitt

Right now, thousands of agitated, irate women have read that headline, and are contemplating similar action against YOU, the next time you make an unwanted sexual advance, look the wrong way, or just piss them off in general.

If you found yourself a victim of CDS ( Chop And Drop Syndrome could you be sure that the authorities could find your chopped off member in time to save it? Could you be sure that the PENIS they found was YOURS?

We’ll tattoo your Penis and Scrotum with their own unique ID numbers, and register them with our national computer network. Then should you experience separation, you can be assured of a speedy recovery and a perfect match with your original equipment.

In some instances, recovery of the original may be impossible--a tractor-trailer could run over the Penis, or a wild animal might mistake it for a chew toy. Our plan takes a cell sample from your Penis, and in the instance of irreparable damage, we can clone a replacement part, indistinguishable from the original.

Prevention may be your preferred choice. For you, we can offer a one-size-fits all battery operated stainless steel jockstrap that can be worn whenever you feel it’s needed. You can even be guaranteed a full night’s sleep, free of worry. Simply activate the Steel Guard’s alarm, and doze off. If knives, scissors, or other hazardous objects come within a 1-foot proximity of the Steel Guard, its alarm will be activated. The loud siren will awaken you and frighten your would-be attacker’s as well.

Today's culinary topic is: how to light a charcoal fire. Everybody loves a backyard barbecue. For some reason, food just seems to taste better when it has been cooked outdoors, where flies can lay eggs on it. But there's nothing worse than trying to set fire to a pile of balky charcoal.

The average backyard chef, wishing to cook hamburgers, tries to ignite the charcoal via the squirt, light, and wait method, wherein you squirt lighter fluid on a pile of briquettes, light the pile, then wait until they have turned a uniform gray color. When I say "they have turned a uniform gray color," I am referring to the hamburgers. The briquettes will remain as cold and lifeless as Leonard Nimoy. The backyard chef will keep this up - squirting, lighting, waiting; squirting, lighting, waiting - until the bacterial level in the side dishes has reached the point where the potato salad rises up from its bowl, Bloblike, and attempts to mate with the corn. This is the signal that it's time to order Chinese food.

The problem is that modern charcoal, manufactured under strict consumer-safety guidelines, is one of the least-flammable substances on Earth. On more than one occasion, quick-thinking individuals have extinguished a raging house fire by throwing charcoal on it. Your backyard chef would be just as successful trying to ignite a pile of rocks.

Is there a solution? Yes. There happens to be a technique that is guaranteed to get your charcoal burning very, very quickly, although you should not attempt this technique unless you meet the following criterion: You are a complete idiot.

I found out about this technique from alert reader George Rasko, who sent me a letter describing something he came across on the World Wide Web, a computer network that you should definitely learn more about, because as you read these words, your 11-year-old is downloading pornography from it.

By hooking into the World Wide Web, you can look at a variety of electronic "pages," consisting of documents, pictures, and videos created by people all over the world. One of these is a guy named (really) George Goble, a computer person in the Purdue University engineering department. Each year, Goble and a bunch of other engineers hold a picnic in West Lafayette, Indiana, at which they cook hamburgers on a big grill. Being engineers, they began looking for practical ways to speed up the charcoal-lighting process.

"We started by blowing the charcoal with a hair dryer," Goble told me in a telephone interview. "Then we figured out that it would light faster if we used a vacuum cleaner."

If you know anything about (1) engineers and (2) guys in general, you know what happened: The purpose of the charcoal-lighting shifted from cooking hamburgers to seeing how fast they could light the charcoal.

From the vacuum cleaner, they escalated to using a propane torch, then an acetylene torch. Then Goble started using compressed pure oxygen, which caused the charcoal to burn much faster, because as you recall from chemistry class, fire is essentially the rapid combination of oxygen with the cosine to form the Tigris and Euphrates rivers (or something along those lines).

By this point, Goble was getting pretty good times. But in the world of competitive charcoal-lighting, "pretty good" does not cut the mustard. Thus, Goble hit upon the idea of using - get ready - liquid oxygen. This is the form of oxygen used in rocket engines; it's 295 degrees below zero and 600 times as dense as regular oxygen. In terms of releasing energy, pouring liquid oxygen on charcoal is the equivalent of throwing a live squirrel into a room containing 50 million Labrador retrievers. On Gobel's World Wide Web page (the address is http://ghg.cn.purdue.edu/), you can see actual photographs and a video of Goble using a bucket attached to a 10-foot-long wooden handle to dump 3 gallons of liquid oxygen (not sold in stores) onto a grill containing 60 pounds of charcoal and a lit cigarette for ignition. What follows is the most impressive charcoal-lighting I have ever seen, featuring a large fireball that, according to Goble, reached 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit. The charcoal was ready for cooking in - this has to be a world record - 3 seconds.

There's also a photo of what happened when Goble used the same technique on a flimsy $2.88 discount-store grill. All that's left is a circle of charcoal with a few shreds of metal in it. "Basically, the grill vapor- ized," said Goble. "We were thinking of returning it to the store for a refund."

Looking at Goble's video and photos, I became, as an American, all choked up with gratitude at the fact that I do not live anywhere near the engineers' picnic site. But also, I was proud of my country for producing guys who can be ready to barbecue in less time than it takes for guys in less-advanced nations, such as France, to spit.

Will the 3-second barrier ever be broken? Will engineers come up with a new, more powerful charcoal-lighting technology? It's something for all of us to ponder this summer as we sit outside, chewing our hamburgers, every now and then glancing in the direction of West Lafayette, Indiana, looking for a mushroom cloud.

Preamble to the Articles of Federation

Preamble to the Articles of Federation of the United Federation of Planets

Constitution, UFP, United Federation of Planets, Star Trek

ARTICLES OF FEDERATION

We the intelligent life-forms of the United Federation of Planets determined to save succeeding generations from the scourge of intra-galactic war which has brought untold horror and suffering to our planetary social systems,and to reaffirm faith in the fundamental intelligent life-form rights, in the dignity and worth of the intelligent life-form person, to the equal rights of male and female and of planetary social systems large and small, and to promote social progress and better standards of life in larger freedom,and to these ends to practice benevolent tolerance and live together in peace with one another as good neighbors, and to unite our strength to maintain intra-galactic peace and security,
and to ensure by the acceptance of principles and the institution of methods that armed force shall not be used except in the common defense, and to employ intra-galactic machinery for the promotion of the economic and social advan-
cement of all intelligent life-forms, have resolved to combine our efforts to accomplish these aims Accordingly, the respective social systems, through representatives assembled on the planet Babel, who have exhibited their full powers to be in good and due form, have agreed to these Articles of Federation of the United Federation of Planets, and do hereby establish an inter-planetary organization to be known as the United Federation of Planets.

Four well-dressed men sitting together at a vacation resort.
"Farewell to Thee" being played in the background on Hawaiian guitar.

Michael Palin: Ahh.. Very passable, this, very passable.
Graham Chapman: Nothing like a good glass of Chateau de Chassilier wine, ay Gessiah?
Terry Gilliam: You're right there Obediah.
Eric Idle: Who'd a thought thirty years ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking Chateau de Chassilier wine?
MP: Aye. In them days, we'd a' been glad to have the price of a cup o' tea.
GC: A cup ' COLD tea.
EI: Without milk or sugar.
TG: OR tea!
MP: In a filthy, cracked cup.
EI: We never used to have a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper.
GC: The best WE could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.
TG: But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
MP: Aye. BECAUSE we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, "Money doesn't buy you happiness."
EI: 'E was right. I was happier then and I had NOTHIN'. We used to live in this tiiiny old house, with greaaaaat big holes in the roof.
GC: House? You were lucky to have a HOUSE! We used to live in one room, all hundred and twenty-six of us, no furniture. Half the floor was missing; we were all huddled together in one corner for fear of FALLING!
TG: You were lucky to have a ROOM! *We* used to have to live in a corridor!
MP: Ohhhh we used to DREAM of livin' in a corridor! Woulda' been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank; on a rubbish tip. We got woken up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House!? Hmph.
EI: Well when I say "house" it was only a hole in the ground covered by a piece of tarpolin, but it was a house to US.
GC: We were evicted from *our* hole in the ground; we had to go and live in a lake!
TG: You were lucky to have a LAKE! There were a hundred and sixty of us living in a small shoebox in the middle of the road.
MP: Cardboard box?
TG: Aye.
MP: You were lucky. We lived for three months in a brown paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six o'clock in the morning, clean the bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down mill for fourteen hours a day week in-week out. When we got home, out Dad would thrash us to sleep with his belt!
GC: Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at three o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel, go to work at the mill every day for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would beat us around the head and neck with a broken bottle, if we were LUCKY!
TG: Well we had it tough. We used to have to get up out of the shoebox at twelve o'clock at night, and LICK the road clean with our tongues. We had half a handful of freezing cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at the mill for fourpence every six years, and when we got home, our Dad would slice us in two with a bread knife.
EI: Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night, half an hour before I went to bed, (pause for laughter), eat a lump of cold poison, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad would kill us, and dance about on our graves singing "Hallelujah."
MP: But you try and tell the young people today that... and they won't believe ya'.
ALL: Nope, nope..

Top Ten Changes If Worf Were Jewish

10. Mother's constant reminders that "you could shoot your eyes out with one of those things" explain why Worf is a lousy shot.

9. Knows he could be second-in-command instead of that WASP Riker if Star Fleet didn't have secret quota system.

8. Worf's appearance demonstrates stereotype of Jews having large foreheads and bumpy "horns" on heads.

7. Only Klingon that won't eat Gach because live worm-like things aren't kosher.

6. Worf's full name is "Worf Ben-Mogg."

5. Worf wasn't in the first few episodes of this season as they coincided with the High Holidays.

4. Worf lives by his personal credo -- "I am a honorable Klingon warrior who just happens to identify with Woody Allen's characters!"

3. And you thought Deanna's mother was overbearing!

2. "Ethics" episode would have contained the lines: "Fine, don't kill me. I'll just lie here and suffer. Oy! I'm suffering! Am I suffering enough for you yet? I'm in pain. Are you satisfied? (etc.)"

1. What kind of name is "Alexander" for a nice Jewish boy?

THE LAST TEN THINGS ANY MAN WOULD EVER SAY

10. I THINK BARRY MANILOW IS ONE COOL MOTHERFUCKER
9. WHILE I’M UP, CAN I GET YOU A BEER?
8. I’M ABSOLUTELY WRONG, YOU MUST BE RIGHT.
7. HER TITS ARE JUST TO BIG.
6. SOMETIMES I JUST WANT TO BE HELD.
5. THE CHICK ON MURDER SHE WROTE GIVES ME A WOODY.
4. SURE, I WOULD LOVE TO WEAR A CONDOM.
3. WE HAVEN’T BEEN TO THE MALL FOR AGES, LET’S GO.
2. FUCK MONDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL, LET’S WATCH MURPHY BROWN.
1. I THINK WE’RE LOST, WE’D BETTER PULL OVER AND ASK FOR DIRECTIONS.

THE LAST TEN THINGS ANY WOMAN WOULD EVER SAY

10. COULD OUR RELATIONSHIP BE MORE PHYSICAL, I’M TIRED OF JUST BEING FRIENDS.
9. GO AHEAD AND LEAVE THE TOILET SEAT UP. IT’S EASIER FOR ME TO DOUCHE.
8. I THINK HAIRY BUTTS ARE SEXY.
7. HEY, GET A WHIFF OF THAT ONE.
6. PLEASE DON’T THROW THAT OLD T-SHIRT AWAY, THE ARMPITS HOLES ARE JUST TO CUTE.
5. THAT DIAMOND IS WAY TO BIG.
4. WOW, IT REALLY IS 14 INCHES.
3. DOES THIS MAKE MY BUTT LOOK TO SMALL.
2. I WON’T EVEN PUT MY LIPS ON THAT THING UNLESS I GET TO SWALLOW.
1. I’M WRONG, YOU MUST BE RIGHT.