Tubba Predicts the Oscars

Thing #1 about the Oscars Tubba hates is all the stupid categories that don't matter. Best animated short? Best makeup? You get prizes for that? In pre-K, you get punched in your face and your snak-pak gets stolen.

Thing #2 that Tubba hates about the Oscars is that my 2nd annual viewing party (which rivals Elton John's in its fanfare and the availability of dozens of prescription drugs) was CANCELLED this year. Let it sink in. Now you're gonna shake a little. Sit with it. Breathe.

Apparently, Helmut is not allowed to be that close to that many Jewish people all at once. Even on television. His parents, who fled to the US from Austria via Argentina, are well into their dotage and have "extremist opinions" about Jews. But who doesn't? Take Sal for example. I love him. He's on retainer and at my disposal at all times. Plus, he just adjusted his retainer from $30,000 per annum to $100,000 per annum on account of the border war I started with Connecticut. That's lower, right? Tubba only knows up to 4. It would be below me to learn numbers. That's what we have the women for. Am I right or am I right?

Thing #3 that Tubba hates about the Oscars is white people. Check out the ginger b*tch interrupting my man 'Marbles' during his acceptance speech for the movie he made about lame people.

My man 'Marbles' with 2009 Kentucky Derby winner, Mine that Bird

See that fist, indicating that she cannot count past four? B*tch probably expects people like Tubba to do all the counting for her. Little does she know that much like the US Government and Wall Street, Tubba cares little for paltry differences between and among digits. Tubba only cares for himself (that is why the Government and Wall Street pay tithings to Tubba).

And finally, #4: Jeremy is pulling the Prius around to take me to the Harvard Square IHOP, where they don't play the stupid Oscars. And that's the last thing Tubba hates about the Oscars: that I can't watch them and eat pancakes at the same time. Although this isn't really Tubba's fault. We were going to watch at Fudrucker's in Connecticut, but then Jeremy's Mom told him that she has cancer, and then Jeremy started crying, and Tubba said "isn't that just code for gay, because Father McMullin said that being gay is a terrible disease that kills you, too." And then Tubba blacked out and Jeremy made some kind of scene, and then the fire engines came, and neither of us is allowed in Connecticut anymore.

Which is really too bad because Tubba LOVES funerals.

kisses,

Tub

Tubba's Sleepover Photo Update!

Tubba is pleased to report that the first annual Tubba/Helmut Frukgenserg-Hoch multi-national sleepover and pancake breakfast is going well. We've managed to find common ground! Tubba and Helmut both love figure skating. Tubba loves it for the bedazzled uniform body suits and Helmut loves it for the Nazi-like coaches, fueled by their own inadequacies, who secretly beat competitors when cameras are turned away.

Anyway, Tubba and Helmut wanted to provide a photo update for our night thus far. Enjoy.

First, Helmut cries a lot. Host #2 says to be nice to him because Helmut comes from an 'unreliable home life' and has a therapist. Helmut's therapist makes him draw his feelings... Gay.

I found this sketch in his nap-sack. Titled: 'Ethan, Tuesday Night'

And another, 'Boy, a Self Portrait'

Anyway, Helmut went on to tell Tubba all about his Dad:

And that his Dad was famous as the inventor of the Jean Jacket back in the 80s. That was until he got weird, then got really weird, and then pretended to be an LAPD Officer to cut through Burger King drive-thrus on foot.

After, Helmut was taken in by this man:

Prof. Herman Ali Onassis (no relation). That was until it was discovered Prof. Onassis was in fact a Soviet agent. That experience was later optioned by Warner Brothers and spun out into the classic TV show "Murphy Brown."

Just when Helmut was on the brink of spending Christmas alone, a Social Service officer located his Maternal Grandmother in Germany:

Frau Gruttenfutz Splindendockfick Hitler.

At this point in Helmut's story I was really, really bored. Really. And surprise, Helmut got weird. Expressing to me his deepest, darkest fears:

After I returned from frantically searching for my halloween clown mask to comfort Helmut, I was shocked to discover he was still fucking talking.

Thank God earlier in the day I had visited Bruce, my whacking salami supplier.

If anyone reads this, please send ammunition and whatever German's are allergic to.

King Tubba

Panda Attack... Spoils of war

Check this... (my bathroom tile)

Fat panda be plotting against me. A panda, eating a giant potato chip... or hugging a butt. Regardless, Tubba believes panda is an adequate source of sustenance. Iago! Iago!

Attest,

Tubba Le-La (Dash not silent)

*Edit: Apparently, you people need to be hand held. Iago is a slang name commonly used to indicate a traitor. Tubba is like John Lennon... A generation not deserving.