Six Feet Under
In Case Of Rapture

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Oh, Crap!

A brown-haired gentleman in his twenties stands in the front room of an adult goods retailer and holds a helium pump to the back end of a blond-haired blow-up female who sports plastic breasts just slightly more realistic than those of most real live Angeleno women the doll seeks to replicate. And then an axe comes hurtling from out of nowhere and lands between his shoulder blades, killing him instantly. No, not really. But the quotient of "hilarious death-y fake-outs" is awfully high this week, so I thought I'd get my feet wet with a practice one. Porn Retailer #1 questions his trade, asking, "I don't understand why they want these filled with fuckin' helium," and he says "fuckin'" and he says it about fake plastic ladies with their fake plastic lady vaginas because it's HBO and he can, dammit. His coworker blows some helium into a tiny balloon marked "Exposition," which swells madly, growing to an enormous size before taking flight of its own volition and blotting out the sun and all that is holy. He responds, "For the AVN Awards, man. They're like the fucking Oscars of porn." And what's so crazy about his use of that phrase is that, like, two weeks ago I was listening to Howard Stern, and he had this stripper on (I know! She was on right between his other two guests, Delaware Senator Joe Biden and former Secretary General of the United Nations, Boutros Boutros-Ghali) who referred to the AVN Awards with utter casualness as "the Oscars of porn." I totally want the event publicist for the AVN Awards to come work for me and do all of my corporate branding, making up a title for me that automatically rises to people's lips when they hear my name. And I would like that title to be, "Djb: The Oscars of Porn."

Porn Retailer #2 continues his drive down L.A.'s long and stoplight-filled Exposition Boulevard as he explains, "They want them floating from the rafters." Porn Retailer #1 lightens up the mood a little, sucking from the blowhole (screw you, HBO, for making me be all, "But what about the children" six times in this recap already) and speaking in a helium-enhanced hilarious high voice: "Fuck me! I have several fuckable orifices!" Ah, prop work. The hallmark of any great comedy. Just ask Gallagher. But while you're asking him, know that you guys in the front row are gonna get soaked. Porn Retailer #2 totally gets whose line it is, anyway, picking up the cue and nabbing another blow-up doll out from underneath some conveniently-located netting, volleying back, "No, fuck me! I'm a chick with a dick!" Because, you see, it is a chick with a dick he holds. And then...death by sudden brain aneurysm! No? Am I close? "Well, you can fuck yourself!" Porn Retailer #1 says, mashing his blow-up alter ego up against his colleague's blow-up alter ego and wisely deciding to keep his day job even if he's clearly about to lose his license. "Oh, shit!" Porn Retailer #2 yelps for unknown reasons. Is it because of the...death by skin-on-plastic-related extreme rare skin allergy? "My dick fell off." Because, you see, the dick has fallen off. Almost as momentous an occasion.

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Six Feet Under

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