For some reason that mystifies even the greatest intellectual minds, I have mentioned Common Wombat here on my blog somewhere around 24,765 times. Why? Why, when there are so many more noteworthy people, places and events in the world at any minute, do I waste even a second of my time on this bozo? The answer is simple: He tickles me. It's a vice I'm not proud of, and yet there it is. I hope it doesn't lower your opinion of me. I will attempt to explain it to you thusly: Sometimes even deeply wise and profound people like to snicker at what we intellectual types like to call "retard humor." I bet if he were alive today, even Albert Einstein would have to admit that South Park is kinda funny. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying Common Wom-boob is anywhere near as clever as the writers of South Park--he's not. But I have two kids and two jobs and two intravenous drug habits; I don't have time to watch a lot of TV. Common Wombat's blog was a way for me to get a quick fix of retard humor without having to take the time to sit on the couch for a whole TV program.
Then the lazy bastard quit blogging. Not formally--he made no grand announcement. Rather, his blog sat and rotted away as the months and years went by, with no one but me checking back from time to time to see if he'd puked up a few new wisecracks yet.
Why, then, did I continue to link to him, post after post here on Karlababble, when I knew those links were only sending my readers to a black hole in the web? Because, goddammit, there is no one on earth more suited to be the punchline to my jokes than Wombat. In this one area of life, he excels! When I set up a small penis joke, no name fits so perfectly as the punchline as his. Try it! Say something like, "Blah blah blah de blah blah small penis? Blah de blah blah de blah Common Wombat!" See? He's perfect!
And he's versatile. Tired of penis jokes? Okay, I'll switch to herpes stricken, homeless crackhead jokes. Again, he's perfect! Porn-addicted, sexually ambiguous welfare recipient jokes? He's perfect! Serial-killer-living-with-his-mom jokes? PERFECT! Believe me, I've tried others. When it became evident that Wombat's blog was as dead as Don Henley's career, I tried using a variety of seemingly equally repulsive characters as punchlines for my jokes. I tried tfg, Mighty Dyckerson, Anonymous Coworker, and a couple of others. Yeah, sure, they were passable. But still, they lacked something. They weren't quite vile and grotesque enough. I needed Wombat.
So I begged him to return to blogging. I threatened. I pleaded. I talked you guys into pleading. All of it fell on deaf ears. Not that he didn't want to blog, I don't think. I think it's just that he's so slovenly, so lazy, so utterly inert, that he wasn't able to physically move his fingers across the keyboard.
But suddenly, things have changed. That lazy, shiftless cretin has recently announced a return to blogging! Don't get your hopes up--I have no doubts that this is only temporary, and as soon as the sugar rush from his Twinkie binge ends, he will go back to nodding off in front of reruns of I Love Lucy. But for now, you may check him out--not at his former blog, but at his new place, which is fresh and clean and as-yet unlittered with the feces and empty Malted Milk Ball boxes which will appear soon enough. Far more importantly, you will find my jokes pack a far greater punch with him reinstated as my comic foible.
That's the up side to his return to blogging. The down side is that I now have 24,765 links in my past blog posts that officially go nowhere. That prick did it to me again.