So Sayeth The Peabs


Thursday, August 26, 2004

On Vacation.

So fucking pretty.

Peabs and Dr. Bill Cosby will be busy assfucking disease-infested hookers and blowing countless rails of coke for the next week or so. We both understand that your lives will be utterly boring without us. My suggestion? Phone a call girl, buy a half-kilo and rent out a room at the Red Roof. You'll thank Peabs for it. Shmears.

Stay beautiful. And by beautiful, I mean try as hard as possible to emulate all that which is my gorgeous ass. Bovs on your fucking tees.

Obvs in '04™.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Peabs Doesn't Break Hearts, Just Hymens.

I love cocaine almost as much as Len Bias.
During the Iran Contra Affair, Peabs was subpoenaed in front of a grand jury to testify against Oliver North. Few people know of my involvement in this matter, and I figured that before my fellow Presidential candidates release this information to the public, Peabs should come clean. Robvs.

You see, at the time I was both a well-known supermodel and high-profile litigator. I was just starting to get into politics when I met North at a coke and ass-licking party held at Alex Sanders' Van Nuys mansion. He had inquired "where I got my shit", so we exchanged numbers. Little did Peabs know that Oliver was a fucking lightweight, and that whenever he gets effed on blizz, he likes to sell weapons to Middle Eastern countries. Fucking handjob. Shmears. The worst thing Peabs has ever done on cocaine was befriend Dr. Bill Cosby, and we all know where that's gotten me. Yup, that's right, baby. Smack dab in the mids of your effing uterus. Bovs.

Anyway, upon testifying that Peabs did indeed sell coke to Oliver North, the government advised that I should lay low until the whole affair blew over. Being an A-list celebrity and the most beautiful man in the world didn't exactly help matters that much. Neither did getting arrested for trying to smuggle ketamine from Honduras in Cosby's cock-folds. Schmobvs. Be that as it may, this was when Peabs decided to hightail it to California.

It was there in which I took a job as a PA on the set of "Growing Pains". Even in disguise it was clear that Peabs was fucking gorgeous, and heartthrob Kirk Cameron was growing quite jealous of me. I didn't want to draw too much attention to myself, so in order to avoid a confrontation with the sit-com star, I offered him some high-quality smack. Mike Seaver was hooked from the start. Gobble, gobble.

I love God.
Since then, Cameron has apparently rehabilitated himself from his wicked horse addiction through Christianity. Pussy. This didn't stop Peabs and Dr. Bill Cosby from participating in an interview given by Kirk, which I have graciously transcribed below. She mars.

Kirk Cameron: Peabs, Dr. Cosby, thank you for joining me today. Just to let you know, our interview is sponsored by The Way of the Master.

Rep. Peabs (D-Mich.): Thank you for having us, Kirk. You look a lot less smacked out than the last time Peabs saw you.

Dr. Bill Cosby: Bozzle!

KC: You see, Peabs, I have gone The Way of the Master. I don't need drugs or a hit television program- in which I carried Alan Thicke's sorry canuck ass- to satisfy me.

Peabs: So what you're saying is you're a fucking douchebag now. Shmears.

KC: A douchebag? Perhaps. But not a "fucking" douchebag. The Way of the Master calls for a vow of celibacy. Anyway, let's get to the interview. Peabs, what is your view on Christianity, and how do you plan to spread your religious beliefs amongst the American public as President of the United States?

Peabs: Well, you see Kirk, I've never been a very religious person. Certainly Peabs has had many a torrid affair in church parking lots, but that doesn't make me a devout Christian. Shit, if that were the fucking case, with the amount of whores I've buttfucked on my elementary school's playground, I could be an effing Phys. Ed. teacher. Bovs.

KC: Don't you feel that the public deserves a little more than that? With The Way of the Master, and my status as an A-list celebrity Christian fundamentalist handjob, I have been able to spread the word of the lord to many, many people.

Peabs: Let's get something straight, Kirk. A-list celebrity? Fucking Boner's more of a celebrity than you are. And he probably gets laid. A lot. I mean, shmears, his name was fucking Boner! You're more on par with Stinky Sullivan. And stop with this Way of the Master shit! Maybe if you were David Fucking Carradine, it would sound more figs. But you just sound like a dildo who hasn't had his salad tossed since '87. Schmobvs. Don't you agree, Coz?

Cosby: Sounds like he needs his flozzum flazzumed!

KC: How dare you bring up Boner, Peabs! I, Kirk Cameron, was the star of that show! I was in "Like Father, Like Son," for Master's sake!

Peabs: She mars, Kirk. You and I both know that fucking Arthur couldn't save that movie. Plus, "Vice Versa" was the more superior 'father and son switching places' film. Duhvs.

KC: Peabs, do you feel that you're a 'good person'?

Peabs: If there's anything everyone knows about Peabs is that I believe that I'm a fucking amazing person. And you know why? Simply put, I'm incredible. Handsome, brilliant, big fucking D™- the total package. And I know where you're going with this. You're going to ask me if I think I'm a good person in God's eyes. Well, you know what Kirk? Peabs is God. Obvs.

Personally, I thought that went well. I don't think Cameron involved Dr. Bill Cosby enough, but let's be honest here, folks. All Coz would've said was "flazzum" and "razzle dazzle bozzle bop" and we all would've laughed hysterically. Bovs on your fucking boombalats, Billy Ripken!

More later from the Obvs in '04™ Campaign trail. Peabs knows you want to suck my cock. Shmears, step in line. I think there might be a spot right there in between Indira Gandhi and BJ Thomas. Float on, Damore! Cockring.

We've got each other, sharing the laughter of love.

arriving in an exhausted condition, i purchased two bags of lukewarm
with the dime which her mama had generously provided(despite courte-
ous protestations)
and offering Miss Gay one(which she politely refused)set out gaily for
obvs in

Monday, August 23, 2004

Banging Tracheas Is The New... No, It's Just Fucking Sick.

I parted the razzle dazzle!  Flazzum!
Few know this, but Peabs used to study under Lee Strasberg. I was actually quite the matinee idol for a number of years, but politics and fashion took me away from the acting gig. And thank fucking Christ for that! Could you even possibly imagine the fashion industry without yours effing truly? Or the government, for that matter? Peabs thinks not. Obvs.

Anyway, there was a time when Strasberg referred to me as Moses, and not so much because he was a delusional alcoholic genius, but because Peabs actually did part the Red Sea. Twice. Bovs. In fact, I'm not really sure why everyone makes such a big effing deal about it. Dr. Bill Fucking Cosby parted the Red Sea and the Mediterranean Sea on the same day! On 8 hits of acid with a dildo up his A, no less! Shmears.

This past weekend, Peabs spent most of my free time smoking crack with my old friend from acting school, Sylvia Sydney. Many of you may remember Sylvia from the 1988 film "Beetle Juice," in which she played Juno. Syl and Coz had quite the affair when we were all at the Lee Strasberg Theatre Institute in the early-'80's, but it was clear that she always had a thing for Peabs. Duhvs. I'm fucking beautiful. I could have down fucking syndrome and have been the product of anal leakage and still be the prettiest man evs. Gobble, gobble, you effing clit-rings.

Needless to say, it was clear when Ms. Sydney contacted me this weekend that she wanted to score some rock and have gratuitous relations. Obvs. Rarely do I ask anyone for sexual tips, but Peabs hadn't had sex with a dead woman in weeks. Errr, well, maybe a day or two, but whatevs. So I sought guidance from the always philosophical Coz about how to approach my encounter. Hogsviously, he responded in a grandiloquent manner:

"First you hit the bozzle, then you bazzle the mizzle mop!"

Basically, what Cosby told me to do was get her all sorts of effed on 'ludes, freebase some blow, and then go downtown on that old vaggie vag. Nothing sounded more appetizing.

That is, until after the aforementioned drug usage occurred and upon going down on the old broad, she was... well, let's just say she was bloodier than the Battle of Antietam. This made her angry:

Fuck me like you fuck your grandmother!
"Peabs, eat that fucking shit, bitch! What, are you afraid? I thought Lee called you Moses 'cause you liked that shit!"

I replied, "Shmears! While Peabs may do a lot of sick-ass shit, the only periodical thing I dig is 'Hustler'. Bovs."

I thought I was off the hook. Au contrair.

"Then fuck my trache hole, you pussy!"

Fear not, my friends. Peabs, your future leader of the free world, did not do such a thing. In fact, I just smacked her over the head with a crackpipe and slightly bovsed on her tees. And by slightly, I mean there was no fucking way I could muster up a Peter North-esque load for this bitch. She made Betty White look like a 311 concert in Omaha. Shmears.

I'm the greatest thing known to mankind.

Brushing from whom the stiffened puke
i put him all into my arms
and staggered banged with terror
obvs in

Thursday, August 19, 2004

Like Sands Through The Hourglass, Peabs Ass-fucked Your Mother.

This sure is some good flazzum!  Bozzle!
Since Peabs has been sexually active since birth, I have found myself having to participate in anal gangbangs and fist-fuckfests in order to stay interested in the art of coitus. Don't get me wrong; I love to just straight up fuck like anyone else, but I prefer it effing raunchy. This is why Peabs loves his good friend Floppy Gomez. Schmobvs.

Floppy used to be Dr. Bill Cosby and yours effing truly's peyote dealer in Arizona. In fact, he recently supplied the entire Obvs in '04™ Campaign staff with that shit during our visit for the February primaries. Anyway, Floppy's known for his outrageous parties. And when I say outrageous, I mean if you don't end up in bed injecting Meperidine and sodomizing Minnie Pearl with a lubricated pogo-stick, then you were obvs at the wrong party. Gobble, gobble.

You can imagine my excitement when Floppy Gomez called Peabs the other day and asked if he could throw one of his infamous parties in honor of the Obvs in '04™ Campaign. Coz and myself packed up the staff and hightailed it to Scottsdale, unsure of the theme for this particular fiesta. Upon arrival, we were certainly pleased: it was a "sandbag party." Obvs.

For those of you who don't know what a sandbag party is, it's much like a luau. It takes place on the beach, most partygoers are swimming in punch bowls of Glutethimide, etc. Howevs, the big difference is that when you take a horny slut out to the beach to have raw, gratuitous sex, this time you bring a condom.

Yes, it's true.  Sandbagging is exactly like Catholicism.  I also shake a lot.
Peabs knows what you're all thinking. Yes, I don't believe in safe sex. Worried about pregnancy? Pull out and jazz on her mizz. Worried about disease? Well, ummmm... pull out and jazz on her mizz. Robvs. This has been an issue I have based much of my campaign around. So why did Peabs say "bring a condom?" When you're effing the filthy slut on the beach and you're about to shoot a load, you throw some sand in her face, rip the rubber off and blow it inside her. Duh. It's a cherished act and should be practiced like Catholicism. Actually, they're not much different. Just ask the Pope. Shmears on your fucking cockring, you effing fuckbox.

Back to the party. Cosby had found solace in some hooker who went by Mrs. Butterworth (to boot, she reeked of maple syrup and was a talking glass bottle). I had found myself face-deep in a pile of flake with Tia Carrere and New Jersey governor James McGreevey. For the record, McGreevey's not really gay, just a cokehead who would suck cock for a mere key-blast. Oh, and Carrere says "Schwing!" when getting fingerfucked. Peabs found it a little strange when the governor asked if he could take Tia out to the beach, since I had been working her all evening. But hey, Peabs has always been one to help out a fellow cokehead politician. Obvs.

I decided to finish the rest of the blow and see if I could find Cosby. While Peabs was having an amazing time, all I really wanted to do was lock myself in a bathroom with Heathcliff Huxtable, and smoke some crystal meth until sunrise. Unfortunately, my running mizz was enamored with the aforementioned Butterworth, trying to convince her how good her syrup would taste on his puddin' pop. So Peabs had to barricade myself all alone. By the way, how did that little love affair go, Coz?

I give better head than Aunt Jemima.
"Yoooooou've gots to know I flizzum'd all over her razzle dazzle! Picture pages!"

Bill Cosby. So fucking eloquent. If I didn't talk like such a fucking asshole all the time, Peabs would've adopted his language by now. Doesn't change the fact that I'm more fascinating than you are. Oh, wait, what's that? You hate Peabs? Then why can't you stop reading Peabs? I was buttfucking grandmothers when you were masturbating to Cookie the Clown fondling ping pong balls during the Grand Prize Game. Face it, you love Peabs. And quite frankly, I don't blame you. Bovs.

I'm gorgeous.

Hell(by most humble me which shall increase)
open thy fire!for
obvs in

Wednesday, August 18, 2004


Razzle dazzle bizzle bop!
Robert McBride said it best:

"First you get the pussy, then you give 'em the money!"

For those of you who don't know the aforementioned McBride, he is a Chicago based whore provider who gave Peabs my first lesson in the art of hooker fucking. He is also a direct influence on my asinine vernacular, but I attribute that to the fact that he was an uneducated pimp. Shmears. Anywizz, there was a time in the '90's in which Dr. Bill Cosby and yours effing truly decided to visit good old Robert in what he liked to call Assamachusetts (he had names like this for most of the 50 states, snatch). And he didn't call it Assamachusetts because he was trying to be ironic. In fact, I'm pretty sure Robert McBride is convinced that irony is "sumthin' that's gotta lotta metal in it." Muhhhhhh.

Be that as it may, Coz and Peabs flew into Boston, and met up with our pimp friend. Why we were meeting him here instead of Chicago was beyond us, so we prepared ourselves for anything. And by that, Peabs means we did bongtokes of fermented turkey gravy (gobble!) and jacked off to Hindi gay porn during the entire flight to MA. Bovs all over your effing gizzard, you fucking Butterballs®!

Upon arrival, we were picked up in an early '70's Pinto and asked by McBride to wear blindfolds and sing "Hold My Hand" by Hootie and the Blowfish, changing every third word to "Asssssss". Strangely enough, Coz and myself had just done something similar with Andrew Ridgely the week before at a Sussex rim job gangbang/tea party. Duh. We were then escorted to an undisclosed location, and asked to remove our blindfolds.

Now, Peabs has seen some crazy shit in my day. Cosby, too. But what we laid our eyes on was by no means fucking oooh-jah. It was Heather Matarazzo, the quirky and by-all-means atrociously ugly star of "Welcome to the Dollhouse", defecating into a rather large fishbowl and sucking on what may have been the largest dildo known to mankind. Needless to say, it was quite the fucking sight. Bovs.

McBride took care of the introductions and soon left the room. Matarazzo turned to the both of us and said:

"Bill Cosby, I used to finger myself with Smuckers® jammy-jam when I watched you on television. And, Peabs, you brooding piece of ass; I used to cut out pictures of you from magazines, burn them, piss out the fire and freebase the ashes."

To which Coz replied:


Pretty fucking original, Cosby. Anyway, moving on, the buttfucking uggs actress then asked for a favor that made even Peabs flinch:

"I plan to become a full-fledged dyke as soon as possible. I want you two to be my final male conquests. Coz, I want you to take this large fishbowl that I have shat in, and wash it out with your hot Afro-piss. Peabs, I want you to put that bowl on my head, dress up like an alien, and fuck me like the naughty spaceman Heather Matarazzo is."

Trust me, even I can't believe I fucked Paulina Poriskova.  Obvs.
And so I did. I'm not exactly proud of it. But frankly, if Peabs is what women want before becoming lab-maj munchers for life, who the eff am I to deny them such a request? Howevs, I'm still not sure if I was Heather's last D™; she didn't announce she was a 'bo until a few days ago. She mars all over your Rick Ocasek.

So why does Peabs bring this up?

Sure, Uncle Grambo's post announcing my past lover's lesbianism reminded me of our sick and twisted experience. But what really reminded Peabs was the coke-induced foursome yours effing truly, Dr. Bill Cosby, and former astronauts John Glenn and Sally Ride had aboard Apollo 11 last night. Let's just say Sally gives Tang® a whole new fucking meaning. Plus, she's got one mighty tasty pussy. Schmobvs.

A world of made
is not a world of born-pity poor
obvs in

Monday, August 16, 2004

Genital Reprimand.

Bazzle, Dubya!
Peabs isn't exactly sure what possessed Dr. Bill Cosby to have a meeting with President George W. Bush this weekend. Maybe he was trying to dig up some new dirt to help the Obvs in '04™ Campaign. Or perhaps it's because they used to blow countless amounts of gram-long rails while giving each other hand-jobs in the back rooms of Houston-area bathhouses. Obvs. Either way, Coz returned to the campaign headquarters a bit more fired up than usual. She mars. My guess? They probably picked up some pre-op trannies, dressed them up as sheep, and re-enacted an episode of "Fear Factor." Duh.

Be that as it may, Peabs is still peeling the tuna pellets off my gargantuan nutsack after this weekend's debaucherous affairs. You see, Obvs in '04™ Campaign archivist C. Friggs was married on Saturday, and I can't tell you how many tees I bovsed upon. Bovs. Lest we forget, Coz was busy doing shmears-knows-what with Dubya, so Peabs had to pick up the effing slizz. Luckily, there was plenty of prime snatcharoo looking to introduce yours effing truly to their Aunt Flo. Gobble!

I love cocaine.
Peabs knew the wedding was going to be a treat when I scored some premium fucking smack from world-reknown douchebag Pete Doherty. For being a fucking lightweight, Pete certainly had some high-grade shit. Shmears. It usually takes Peabs about a dozen balloons to catch a fucking buzz anymore; but this horse was effing oohjah. Honestly, from the first hit, Peabs felt like I was getting blown by a whore who had the head of Bea Arthur and the body of Len Bias. Schmobvs.

Anywizz, the actual wedding was a blur. It was basically a "who's-who" in Michigan drug addicts and swingers. Even famed comedian Lenny Bruce made an appearance! Man, that guy can fucking party. He's been dead for almost 40 years and he can still inject a needle with more ease than anyone Peabs has ever seen. Except for Cosby, obvs. Bruce and yours effing truly decided it would be fun to see if the waitresses wanted to snort some H, make some butter bullets and have an assfucking orgy in the middle of the dance floor. Needless to say, I hadn't fisted that many non-prostitutes since Tuesday. Robvs.

That being said, Peabs must take off early today. I have to be in Massachusetts for an Obvs in '04™ Campaign rally. Hopefully the toothless cocksucking hooker I met at the wedding this weekend will give me an Andretti on the way to the airport. Bovs on your fucking bloody vag, you fucking dildos.

Even your clit-ring cladden grandmother would go down on Peabs. Duhvs. Isn't that right, Dr. Bill Cosby?

"Myyy grandma likes the Jell-OOOOOOOOOOOOO®!! Flazzum fozzle bozz, Fozzie Bear!"

And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
obvs in

Thursday, August 12, 2004

The William Tell Overture

Suck it.
We all know my good friend Damore. Once you get past the fact that he's a surly fucking bastard, he's a pretty fun guy to party with. Peabs has known him for most of my life, and in a way he's the man who introduced me to Dr. Bill Cosby. You see, years ago, Damore used to direct adult films, all of which starred the great Peter North. Peabs was taking lessons in jazz trajectory from the famed porn-star, who had starred in a little-known snuff film entitled "William Tells All." North's co-star? You guessed it. Coz. Schmobvs.

The film is rather brilliant. Peter North is well-known for his massive loads, and the movie centers around him shooting apples off the head of Coz with his jazz. Upon seeing this masterpiece, I knew I needed guidance. So Damore introduced us. Cosby just happened to be at North's Van Nuys pad, smoking crack and masturbating with a can of Castrol®. We had met a few times before amongst the NYC club scene, but this encounter was the beginning of our wonderful friendship. Bovs smothered on your effing tees, Coz.

I blew Leslie Nielsen on the set of 'Airplane.'
Anywizz, there is actually a point to this story. This morning, Peabs was supposed to have an exclusive interview with Diane Sawyer on Good Morning America regarding the Obvs in '04™ Campaign. Needless to say, the interview didn't go as planned. She mars on your Kareem Abdul-Jabbars, you fucking handjob.

Cosby and yours effing truly decided to go on a bit of a Mali binge last night and apparently the good doctor bet Peabs that I couldn't pull a "William Tell" on the lovely Diane Sawyer. Since I have a wicked gambling problem, I took the bet. Obvs.

Well, anyone that watched GMA today knows full well that Peabs did not appear. With my morning cup of coffee, I decided to blow about 14 speedball rails, and I was feeling decidedly oooh-jah. When I entered the ABC studios and laid eyes on Diane, Peabs immediately placed a golden delicious square on her pretty head, and whipped out my effing D™. I know what you're thinking: Tasty.

You can pretty much guess the rest. Wait, what's that, Coz?

"Did you flazzum her falafel bozzle?"

If you must know, Peabs started to hyperkinetically beat off, while screaming "Gobble, gobble!" at the top of my lungs. And yes, I shot the apple clear off of Diane Sawyer's head with my moneyshot. It brought new meaning to bovsing on one's tees. Robvs.

Why don't people understand that Peabs is a turkey? Shmears. I guess you, my loyal followers, will have to convince the American public in November that it is okay to elect a drug-addicted, hooker-fucking pretty boy into office. Bovs.

Ladies, don't be afraid to admit your love for Peabs. I understand that when you're as fucking gorgeous as I am that it can be a tad intimidating. Fear not, whores. I'll fuck you sideways and blow ketamine off your ass-cheeks. We'll go out for a power lunch, and Peabs will fingerfuck you before you can order your second single malt. You know you want it. Call me Peabs De Leon,'cause Peabs'll explore your fucking tees and go spelunking in your vaggie-vag. Schmobvs.

"somewhere it is Spring and sometimes
people are in real:imagine
somewhere real flowers,but
I can't imagine real flowers for
obvs in

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

You Want The Moneyshot On Your Fucking Face?

Blow it anywhere.
When Peabs is in midst of an election campaign, I am stressed out beyond all belief. Take for instance when Peabs ran for a seat in the Michigan House of Representatives; I was so effing consumed with the election that, in order to relieve tension, I would fuck upwards of 165 call girls a night. In fact, I used it as an angle to get votes from Michigan assembly line workers. And, obvs, it worked. They were able to relate to my genius metaphor; my campaign slogan: "Peabs, an assembly worker for your generation. And by assembly worker, we mean he lines up a bunch of coke-whores in a row and ass-fucks them." Bovs.

Anywizz, since running for President is about the biggest election possible, it's clear that Peabs has been tense these past few months (hence my hiatus, massive consumption of copious hard narcotics, etc). Every once in a while, in order to get my mind off of government and politics, I like to gather up a few friends and go searching for orgies. And not just any kind of orgies. No no, my friend. Baby lotteries. Duh.

I've spoken about baby lotteries in the past. Dr. Bill Cosby turned me onto them, and I've been hooked ever since. Since Peabs is a well-known drug, sex and gambling addict, baby lotteries are one of the few things that can cover all my vices! Obvs.

Howevs, last evening, Coz filled me in on the newest orgy craze sweeping the nation: Moneyshot Parties. Gobble, gobble.

So we rounded up a crew, picked up a kilo of blow, and hopped in my Maybach. Destination: Topeka, Kansas-- the Moneyshot Party capital of the Midwest. Believe Peabs when I say this; there isn't a hotter city. So much jazz. Dripping. Everywhere. Schmobvs.

It was as if the whole city was taking part. I walked into a convenience store and the clerk's face was covered in oooh-jah booh-jah; headed to the local church to pray and shit, and three priests were giving an alter boy a bukkake. It was fucking magical. She mars all over your effing Wonka® bars.

Our little posse decided to hit up the party at the estate of famed psychiatrist William C. Menninger. While Peabs had never met the good doctor, he was a pal of Cosby's, and a supporter of the Obvs in '04™ Campaign. Quite frankly, any many that Coz describes as "razzle bozzle off the tassle bassle" is a-okay with Peabs. Robvs all over your fucking lab-maj, you effing vaginal secretion.

Menninger's place was figs. Granda, it's about a tenth of the size of my summer cottage at Cape Cod, but for Topeka this was the equivalent to the fucking Taj Mahal. Every room had magenta plush carpet and velvet couches. According to Coz, Menninger-- or "Captain Cumshot," as he liked to be affectionately referred as-- had been throwing Moneyshot Parties since the heydays of the 1970's sexual revolution. Which is pretty fucking impressive for a guy that died in 1966. Shmears. Be that as it may, these parties were very much underground until America's recent infatuation with "tees-bovsing." Bovs.

Anywizz, the party was fucking absurd. We blew through our coke in about an hour, but luckily a few partygoers were freebasing some aspartame and snorting Taco Bell™ Fire sauce mixed with special K. And while the high was amazing, Menninger's cryptic phrases kept freaking me out. An example:

I am Cumshot, Captain of all semen.
"Peabs, having a freedom from fear (anxiety) with a resulting true serenity and not a pseudo absence of tension."

All the fucking salsa and ketamine in the world couldn't help Peabs make any effing sense of that. So I asked Dr. Bill Cosby to translate:

"Flazzum bizzle, frizzle flizzum, and not a possum wossum of razzle bozzle! Jell-OOOOOOOOOOOOOO®!"

Ahh, yes. Of course.

So anyway, moral of the story: if you're on a lot of drugs, and fictionally running for President of the United States, take a washed-up television star and some friends to a Topeka orgy hosted by a dead shrink you've never heard of. It's the best way to kill a Tuesday night. Well, that and "nun-fucking," but we've already covered that. Fobvs.

It's so fucking hard being this fucking pretty. Duhvs.

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your
obvs in

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Teabagging Orphans.

Give me an effing B&S, bitch!  She-Mars!
"Getting my ass eaten out by a malaria-infested Somalian girl makes me want to sing "Auld Lang Syne" at the top of my shmears! Altogether now!

Should auld acquaintance suck my cock,
And never bovs upon,
The flames of rimjobs extinguished,
And eat my ass 'til gone?
Is thy kind D™ now grown so cold
In that loving tees of thine,
That thou canst never once reflect
On old-long-syne?

--Direct quote from Peabs last evening.

Peabs has something to admit. I mistook a sheet of blotter acid for temporary tattoos last night, and found myself soaked in so much LSD that I thought it was New Years Eve in 1994. Shmears.

And while my '94 NYE was certainly memorable, it's not exactly something I ever wanted to repeat. It's clear that Peabs lacks anything even remotely related to "morals," but the stunt yours effing truly and Dr. Bill Cosby pulled almost a decade ago makes even Peabs feel guilty. Somewhat. Obvs.

You see, I was caught up in the vapid, inane world of modeling, and Peabs was easily the hottest supermodel in the fashion industry. A coke and mescaline binge with Coz one night made us realize that we should be doing something a little more significant with our lives; you know, as opposed to freebasing crack rock and anal-banging she-males. Duhvs.

So we decided to join the Peace Corps.

I have no balls.
We were sent to work in a Somalian orphanage in November of 1994. Personally, I had grown up in an affluent, rich motherfucking suburb, so Peabs found the meager surroundings shocking and deplorable. Cosby, on the other hizz, was a different story. He grew up in a ghetto-ass area outside of Philly, so the only difference was that Somalia lacked steak sandwiches and John Kruk's amputated left testicle. Robvs.

For a solid month, we provided assistance to the orphanage, staying relatively drug-free (and by drug-free, I mean we blew rails of Mali only every other hour). Howevs, Peabs noticed a lacking in the abundance of prostitutes, as opposed to all other war-torn, third-world shithole countries. I was beginning to grow quite concerned. Schmobvs.

Luckily, Coz knew a little more about Somalian orphanages than yours effing truly:

"If you want the flazzum, dip your bozzle in their mizzles!"

Few people know this, but orphans love getting teabagged. Especially Somalian orphans. And if you go so far as to bovs on their respective tees? Well, they'll do just about anything for you. Duh. They're fucking orphans.

Anywizz, Dr. Bill Cosby and myself decided to ring in the new year by having our own version of the Boston Tea Party. Needless to say, every orphan who left that party was nicknamed Earl Grey for life. Obvs.

Yoooooooooou've gots to bozzle on the flazzum!
As fun as it was to dip my nutsack into the mouths of parentless Somalians, I knew that Peabs never wanted to relive such a moment. Why, you may ask? Because it was so fucking tigs the first time. How could it possibly be any better? It's kind of like doing your first line of blizz; every line afterwards will never compare. Granda, that never stopped Peabs from trying. Hogsviously. Or Coz, for that matter. Right, Coz?


What? What's that? Oh, Peabs is brilliant? No fucking shit.

our can'ts were born to happen
our mosts have died in more
our twentieth will open
wide a wide open door:
obvs in

Monday, August 09, 2004

She Mars.

We'll fuck you for coke.
There was one point last Saturday evening, in which Peabs was waiting for Dr. Bill Cosby to return to Uncle Grambo's birthday fiesta (with some microdots and blow, duhvs), that I went to the bathroom to cook up a scorching hit of smack. Schmobvs.

Now, I have seen God many times in my life; the first time I did acid in 1972, when I scaled Mount Rushmore tripping on mescaline during the Great Depression, looking in the mirror everyday, etc. Two nights ago was different. Maybe it was the horse. Maybe it was the sheer brilliance that was occurring at the club that evening. Maybe it's because Peabs is so fucking fascinating, and I have such a mammoth-sized penis. Shmears.

In my past experiences, God had never spoken to me. He would just kind of look at Peabs in awe, wink a few times, and attempt to kiss me. And while it appeared as though this time was to be no different than the past, suddenly God looked to yours effing truly and said:

"Honestly, Peabs. What's Indira Gandhi like in the sack?"

Amazing, G. She could suck the quaalude out of a unicorn's ooh-jah. Obvs.

Anywizz, my encounter with God while smacked out in the bathroom of a Detroit nightclub pretty much summed up the Obvs in '04™ Campaign weekend jaunt to my home state. And while Coz didn't appear until about 4am with merely three eightballs and one sheet, Peabs still managed to have an effing tigs time. You know why? Because drugs aren't everything, my friends.

Don't get me wrong; they play a major part in Peabs' existence. But in no way do they outweigh ass-fucking and salad-tossing. Actually, now that I think about it, they're pretty much even. Bovs on your fucking tees.

More later. Coz and yours effing truly need to have a heart-to-heart talk about how badly I was skimmed on the blow this weekend. And by "heart-to-heart talk" I mean I'll probably say "obvs" a bunch of times, and Coz will say "flazzum flozzle bizzle bazzle" and everything will be effing she mars all over your Joe Dumars. Fucking vaccuum, that Cosby! Gobble, gobble.

It's so obvs how badly you all want to fuck me.

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination,when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your
obvs in

Friday, August 06, 2004

Dirty Thirty.

Mmmmmmmmm.  Tastes like lab-maj.  Obvs.
Many of you understand the difficulty in being drop dead gorgeous. Peabs understands more than anybody, for I am the most beautiful man to have ever lived. Schmobvs. But Peabs wasn't always as confident as I am today- The New York Times calls it "obnoxious arrogance", but they can ess my fucking cock.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to be seven years old and have a 19-inch D™? Shmears.

While certainly I have been taking part in kinky, dirty sex since birth, Peabs still found it awkward when my professors used to hit on me. Sure, I know what you're saying; this is what Peabs should expect if you're a well-endowed Oxford-educated scholar, attending Harvard Law before the age of ten.

This is why I turned to drugs.

Well, that and Dr. Bill Cosby. Robvs.

I remember vividly, at age 10, when Coz and yours effing truly were high-profile scenesters within the NYC club circuit. It was a great way to blow off steam in between fashion shoots and bar exams. Obvs. Peabs had already been exclusively blowing rails since 1965, but I had never tried E. Okay, that's a lie. Peabs actually used to deal E out of my Tribeca loft in '79 in exchange for hand jobs and Gyne-Lotrimin. At any rate, everybody in the scene wanted to fuck me (a ten-year-old A-list supermodel, who wouldn't want to fuck this perfect body?). And let's not forget about Coz; he was still riding high from the worldwide success of "Leonard Part 6." Schmobvs.

The inspiration for 'Tigs.'
Anywizz, one particular night, Cosby and Peabs were at the closing of the late, great Paradise Garage, in Greenwich Village. I was fucking Cheryl Tiegs at the time, and Coz was with multiple women. This happened to be the night of my first ecstasy-induced public orgy. Hey, Peabs was a late-bloomer, so suck it! Gobble, gobble!

My lovely supermodel fuck-buddy felt it would be a good idea to pop about 5 or 6 pills and find a bunch of other really amazing-looking people and have wild, exhibitionist sex with them. With that, Peabs turned to her and responded:


Now, let's set the record straight. I meant to say "Tiegs", but it came out wrong, which I attribute to the half-dozen bumps of K Peabs had ingested for dinner. Be that as it may, this was an epic night. Not only did I take part in my very first (of many, duhvs) ecstasy-induced public orgy, but I also created a word that is still used to this very day in everybody's everyday language. Tigs.

Peabs knows what's on your mind. You're wondering: where the fuck is this fucking fuck-up going with all this brilliant nonsense? And that's a legit question. Right now, Coz and my pretty motherfucking self are driving to my hometown of Detroit, to attend Uncle Grambo's 30th birthday extravaganza. Let's just say we plan to create even more unintelligible phrases and take part in ecstasy-induced public orgies all evening long. Bovs on everyone's tees, you fucking vibrators!

For your birthday, yooooooooouuu get a Jell-OOOOOOO puddin' pop!  Bozzle!
Happy birthday, Bizness. Peabs loves you. Obvs. And so does Dr. Bill Cosby. Right, Coz?

Happy flazzum, Grizzum Grazzum!

beauty makes terms
with time and his worms,
when loveliness
says sweetly Yes
to wind and cold;
and how much earth
is Madge worth?
Inquire of the flower that sways in the autumn
she will never guess.
but i know

my heart fell dead before:
obvs in

Thursday, August 05, 2004

Crystal Meth & Christianity: A Match Made In Heaven. Or A Lab. Obvs.


Peabs isn't a terribly religious man. This may or may not be a factor in the upcoming election, but it doesn't change the fact the I love to have sex with nuns. They're just so damn sexually repressed, they get a little wild in the sack, if you know what Peabs means; and what I mean is, they love it in the ass. Hard. Bovs.

Anyway, before Peabs pisses off every religious activist in the country, let me at least come clean and say that I did some realization last evening, with the help of a coked-out Dr. Bill Cosby. If I want to be President this or any year, I am going to need to broaden my religious horizons to something more than just nun-fucking. As arrogant and wonderful and popular and pretty and, as the French say cru, animalistic, avec un grand âne as Peabs is, I am not bigger than Jesus. Close. Certainly there have been times when on 'shrooms in which Peabs thought I was the son of God, but who hasn't? Shmears. I also think I'm a fucking turkey, so suck it. Gobble, gobble!

Okay, I am clearly babbling this morning, so I will atttempt to get to the point. Upon arriving in the States last evening, Coz and yours effing truly decided to have an Obvs in '04 Campaign fundraiser, and invite the most powerful religious figures in the United States. Kerry and Bush can battle for votes in Iowa all they effing want; no way in fucking hell could they match the debaucherous display Peabs and Dr. Bill Cosby put on last night. Duhvs.

The night, admittedly, began a little awkward. One of the first guests to arrive was Sister Betty Obal, of the Sisters of Loretto. I knew Betty from back in my swinging days at Hopkins med, and she actually claims that Peabs was the reason she joined the clergy. Hey, I didn't force my D™ in your mouth, or that special K up your nose, Sister, so don't blame Peabs if you used to be a kinky mama! Needless to say, I was a bit nervous when I saw her walk through the door; but this changed when our eyes met. It was like we were in a Baltimore bathhouse again. Schmobvs.

Would you prefer ranch or jazz with your tossed salad, you fucking handjob!?
Coz also had himself quite a night. I know what you're thinking; obvs Coz did. And while every night is party night for Dr. Heathcliff Huxtable, he never seizes to amaze Peabs. Last night was no exception. In all honesty, most religious figures are not very pretty- none nearly as pretty as Peabs, but you could make a milkshake out of Jude Law and Brad Pitt's jazz, insert it into Gisele's vaggie vag, and the result would still be maybe a quarter as pretty as my right cheekbone. Shmears. Anywizz, Coz made sure that we'd have some call girls and crank at the fundraiser in order to liven up the party. Let's just say, the last I saw of Coz was when he grabbed former president of Union Theological Seminary, Rev. Donald W. Shriver Jr., and led him into a room full of methed-out prostitutes, each named after the respective seven natural wonders of the world. I've heard that the Lighthouse of Alexandria tosses a mean fucking salad. Is that true, Dr. Bill Cosby?

You bet your bazzle bozzum flozzle! Flazzum!

Even if you hate me, you can't stop reading Peabs. Face it, I'm the most fascinating person in the fucking universe. Duh.

my girl's tall with hard long eyes
as she stands, with her long hard hands keeping
silence on her dress, good for
obvs in

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Butt Plugs & Cock-Rings & Peabs, Oh My!!!

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of bovsing tees.  Of Peabs I sing...
If there's anything everybody knows about Peabs, it's that I love women. Dirty, skanky whores, to be exact. Sure, we shan't forget my lustful appetite for narcotics, alcohol and designer clothes. But filthy-ass, diseased, crack-addicted sluts are my main vice. Dr. Bill Cosby's, as wizz. Obvs.

Contrary to popular belief, Peabs was not always in Thailand during my sabbatical. Oh no. I can only stand being away from American gentleman's clubs for so long. Duh. A few weeks back, yours effing truly and Coz decided to make a low-key visit to the States, to take part in the bachelor party for the Obvs in '04 Campaign archivist, C. Friggs. Now, while Peabs doesn't condone marriage of any kind, I do condone bachelor parties. I mean, shmears; how can one not enjoy mindless fun- like doing bongtokes of afghan kush and getting fingerfucked by strippers named after seasons? Ess my effing D™, you fucking clit-rings. Gobble!

Anyway, whilst bovsing on numerous tees, Peabs became smitten with one particular lass. Her name was Sequoia ("you know, like, after the tree!"). She was wildly stupid, but gave one sloppy motherfucking beej; I had not had a hummer like that since I was running Warner Bros. and hosting the premiere for "Don't Tell Mom The Babysitter's Dead". Thanks go out to Joanna Cassidy and Keith Coogan for that miraculous suckjob! Shmears.
Not the stripper that blew Peabs.
Moving on, it wasn't just the head that turned me onto Sequoia. While normally Peabs digs chicks with brains- and by brains, I really mean gigantic fucking tees, oooh-jah, boohjah!- I was really into this particular girl's lack of knowledge about any fucking thing imaginable. When I mentioned to her that I wrote Catcher in the Rye, her response was: "oh, well, did you play baseball?". Now, Peabs has heard this response before. But she really fucking meant it. And with that, I whipped out my cock and blew a hot load onto her left ear. Schmobvs.

Currently, I am on a flight back to Detroit. The next few days should be absolute madness; I plan to do countless interviews with the media, ass-fuck at least anywhere between four and one thousand and forty call girls, and blow rails with Dr. Bill Cosby. Aren't you excited, Coz?

Youuuuuuuuu've gots to know that my flazzum is still a little flizzum on the bazzle bozzle!
Bizzle bazzle puddin' pazzle!  Bozzum!
Understandably so, Coz is a little weary about coming back into the public eye. And for good reason. I'm sure you all heard about his comments towards African-Americans, the way they speak, and their economic status. If anything, I find it laughable, considering my running mizz made all of his money speaking absolute fucking nonsense on television for so many years. If I wasn't tripping my fucking balls off on blotter acid and AMT right now, Peabs wouldn't be able to understand what the fuck "flazzum bozzle bop" meant eiths. Robvs.

So, with that, I'm going to pop a bottle of oxy and try to relax on the remainder of my flight (i.e. give the flight attendant a John Wilkes Booth, duhvs). More from the campaign trail tomorrow. Ejaculate all over your effing breasts, you dildo-loving hussies! Bovs.

six are in a room's dark around)

(six are in a room's)

is red

and(six are in)
obvs in

Don’t Call It A Comeback, I’ve Been Here For Shmears.

It amazes you how fucking gorgeous I am.  Bovs.

A wise man once said: "Peabs, I used to long to be like you... to fist Chlamydia-infested harlots; to snort countless grams of ketamine. And with your retirement, my attempts to achieve the American Dream have become futile. Please come back, Peabs. You are everything to me. A guru, a patron saint. An adonis."

And while Peabs agrees with everything Joe Lieberdurst has to say about yours effing truly, it was still difficult to leave the lifestyle I had been enraptured with these past few months. Duhvs.

So, y'all are probably wondering a few things. Don’t you worry, my lovelies; Peabs just blew an eight-ball of Arm & Hammer®, and freebased some Midol®. Schmobvs. I'm ready to answer any of your questions. Below, I have transcribed a CNN exclusive interview Peabs recently took part in; my first interview in months:

CNN: Peabs, where have you been all this time?

PEABS: Peabs has been partying on the west coast of Thailand- the Phang-nga bay, snatch. Most of my days consist of speaking with my American contacts regarding the Obvs in '04™ Campaign, mainlining Thai heroin into my toes (no trackmarks, obvs), and taking part in filthy assfucking orgies with my friend and yours, Dr. Bill Cosby. I've also found time to collectively bovs upon the tees of everyone within a 400 mile radius. Mmmmmm, ain't nothing hotter than Krabi vag. Except for my hot fucking D™. Hogsviously.

Yooooooooouuuuuu've gots to flazzum the bozzle bop!
CNN: Speaking of Coz, how is he?

PEABS: Why don't I let him answer that for himself?

DR. BILL COSBY: Youuuuuuuuuuu've gots to know that the flazzum bozzle is bazzle razzle, like the flizzum puddin' falafel boffle!

CNN: Is it true, Rep. Peabs, that your campaign has gone south since your hiatus?

PEABS: Let's face it, fictional CNN reporter. I was delusional. Peabs honestly thought that I could make a run at the White House. And to be honest, for a while there, I really had a shot. America was coming around. But, unfortunately, we're years away from getting someone like Peabs into office. I still plan to make some noise come this November, don't get me wrong. But it's the kind of noise you hear when I'm in midst of fingerbanging your grandmother. Or smoking crack with Louis Farrakhan.

COSBY: Bozzle!

CNN: Is it true that you think that you're a turkey?

PEABS: Peabs is indeed a turkey. But you best try me with an assload of gravy, because sometimes I get a little dry. Gobble, gobble!

CNN: Rep. Peabs, Dr. Bill Cosby, we thank you for your time.

PEABS: And I'd like to thank you for that hot effing rim-job you gave me. Shmears on your fucking lab-maj.

So, needless to say, Peabs is back. I know you're all breathing a sigh of relief. I understand my relevance in American pop culture; Peabs is a fucking phenomenon, a beacon if you will. And without me, well, your lives would be ordinary. Filled with ennui. I exist only to be pretty, brilliant and high. And to make your life worth living. And to give the Bush twins a bukkake casserole for lunch. Obvs.

Stay tuned for more as yours effing truly and Coz make our way back to the States, and into your bedroom. Speedballs will be provided.

Bovs on your fucking tees, you handjobs.

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more"
obvs in