Aykrody's Alt?

Tathagata

Lazarus Monkey
Joined
Feb 10, 2004
Posts
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Although a tad more erudite than say, eyer, this sounds vaguely familiar.


Dan Aykroyd: Jane, you ignorant slut! Bagged-out, dried-up, slunken meat like you and Michelle Triola know the rules. If you want a contract, sign on the dotted line. Oh, but let's all shed a tear for poor Michelle Triola. There was only testimony that she had sexual intercourse over forty times with another man while living with actor Lee Marvin. But I suppose that sort of fashionable promiscuting means nothing to you, Jane, who hops from bed to bed with the frequency of a cheap ham radio. But hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn, and Michelle Triola, like a screeching, squealing, reptatious swamp sow is after actor Lee Marvin's last three million dollars. I guess what you and Michelle are saying is that when you're on your backs, the meter is running. Well, please spare us, gals, and tell us the rate's at the top. Then we can choose which two bit tarts and bargain basement sluts to shack up with.
 
How about I let you know when I've smoked enough weed to know what the hell you're caught up in the moment in.
 
Seriously, though. What is this?

It's from an old SNL sketch from the first years
I have been watching them for two days and some of the writing on the early shows was hysterical.
This just reminded me of some of the misogynistic rants we see on here everyday toward women.
 
I remember that.
I was stoned out of my mind(I dream of Jeanie water pipe) and that was the first time I heard "Slut" on TV. I spewed Tequila Sunrise over most of the living room floor and damned near choked to death before I got my breath back.

Good times!:cool:
 
I remember that.
I was stoned out of my mind(I dream of Jeanie water pipe) and that was the first time I heard "Slut" on TV. I spewed Tequila Sunrise over most of the living room floor and damned near choked to death before I got my breath back.

Good times!:cool:

I'm with ya on this
:cool:
 
I guess what you and Michelle are saying is that when you're on your backs, the meter is running. Well, please spare us, gals, and tell us the rate's at the top. Then we can choose which two bit tarts and bargain basement sluts to shack up with.
Reminds me of the story attributed to Lord Beaverbrook, when he propositions a woman at a party in the 1930s:

Beaverbrook: Would you sleep with me for a million dollars?
Woman (blushing): Why, well, perhaps, yes, yes I would, I suppose.
Beaverbrook: And how about for five dollars?
Woman (shocked): Of course not! What kind of woman do you think I am?
Beaverbrook: We've already established what you are. Now we're just haggling over price.
 
Reminds me of the story attributed to Lord Beaverbrook, when he propositions a woman at a party in the 1930s:

Beaverbrook: Would you sleep with me for a million dollars?
Woman (blushing): Why, well, perhaps, yes, yes I would, I suppose.
Beaverbrook: And how about for five dollars?
Woman (shocked): Of course not! What kind of woman do you think I am?
Beaverbrook: We've already established what you are. Now we're just haggling over price.

Ha!
That's good
 
So Beaverbrook was a John. Who would have thunk it... :rolleyes:

It's a great story, isn't it, and I so want it to be true. But, alas, thoroughly debunked. :mad:

Reality is so frequently disappointing. I prefer books.
 
it's as good as the " madam I'd drink it" story

Oh no - is that not true either? Buggeration.

Don't tell me he didn't do the 'This was their finest hour', because I've heard that on the radio. Then again, I heard War of the Worlds on the radio...

Oh God. You've made me feel all matrixy.
 
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