SAUSAGE PARTY!!!

We hear you, o legion of rabid COWA fans, your chorus echoing throughout the interweb. "Please" you beseech us (and you know how we love a good beseeching), "please tell us some more stories about sausage." Since we live to serve, we've scanned the globe for an international smorgasbord of tales about tubular intestine-encased meat products.

Your adoration is thanks enough.

• The Size Queens of Bucharest: In a desperate attempt to be noticed, the pitiful citizens of Romania recently made a smoked sausage that was 1,286 feet long. And now when we think of Bucharest, we'll think of a town where it took a cylindrical pork product a football field longer than the QE2 to bring a sense of adequacy to its forlorn populace. Overcompensate much? 
• But is it Kosher? Currently sweeping the blogosphere is the Bacon Explosion meme. One day, a champion BBQ aficianado decided to weave a basket out of two pounds of raw bacon, cake a bunch of gooey sausage stuffing over it, add some more bacon, roll it up like a doobie and cook it up for din-din. Just looking at the recipe (with pictures!) gives us angina. It's perfect for Ramadan! Mail a batch to Tel Aviv! Speaking of exploding pork products... 
• The Exploding Portuguese Sausage of Westbourne: No one expects a sausage to attack. But when a group of carefree diners ordered some flaming chorizos (we would never order a dish that sounds like a gay circus act), it transformed a lovely meal into horrific a bloodbath of singed hair and burnt flesh. Here's the story. Warning: it includes gross burn victim pics. 
• The Dazzling Sausage Art of Russia: Every time we go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, we gaze wistfully at the myriad of masterpieces, sighing to ourselves: "how we wish they were made of sausage." Rejoice! Thanks to the Russians, at long last one can bask in the genius of DaVinci, Van Gogh and Picasso rendered in ground pig parts. Stay classy, Russia.
• God Breaks Long Silence, Demands Sausage: It's been many years since God said anything to anyone who wasn't a nut. After His long, multi-millennial silence (during which a cheeky kraut named Nietzsche rudely suggested He'd died), Yahweh has finally spoken. It happened last Sunday at the Saint Mirin's Cathedral in Paisley Scotland (sorry, Mormons). In the middle of one of those tiresome mass thingies, God's booming voice startled the parishioners by demanding "WHO'S GOING TO BRING ME A SAUSAGE ROLL?" Theological scholars assume the question to be rhetorical rather than an outright demand. After all, if God wants a sausage roll, surely He could create it. He certainly wouldn't sit around waiting for a sausage roll to evolve. Instead, it's been determined that The Big Guy has once again used his customarily obtuse imagery to reiterate His Holy hatred of homosexuals. Speaking of homosexuals...
• Tom Cruise Loves Him Some Sausage: Tom Cruise (Xenu devotee, placenta-eater, oompa-loompa) recently embarked on an international press junket to publicize the release of his feel-good Nazi epic. Whilst chit-chatting with some krauts, somehow the conversation strayed from Hitler (a subject all Germans LOVE, trust us) when Cruise suddenly blurted out the startling confession that he craves the sausage of Berlin. Okay, that's just too easy; we invite our readership to knock this one out of the park.

A subscription to this blog's feed is like a long juicy meaty sausage. Wait...what?

Comments

[Jan]

Well, one can only hope he *gets* the sausage of Berlin.

I wonder if there were many volunteers, or if dragging him off his sofa-cum-trampoline just seemed like too much trouble.

[JWB3]

I think Tom has his own sausage party with Kate courtesy of a strap-on sausage and pages ripped from "Honcho" stuck to the ceiling.

[Whup-Ass Master]

@ Jan: I'm rather sure our favorite sofa pouncer found oodles of bratwurst on Craigslist/Berlin

@ JWB cubed: Poor Kate looks drained lately. She's starting to look like one of those Close Encounters aliens.

xox
WAM

[rambosf]

I'm having a hard time getting past the glaring typo in this blog entry..."millenial"? I think not..."millennial" my friend. I'll be clever once I calm down.

(Rambo looks around for a piece of pig art to eat to get his blood sugar back in check.)

Here's my attempt at a clever retort: Tom C. keeps up the bigoted image that most of the world has of the Germans by only eating "the other white meat". It's not great, but it's early out here in SF. I've been up all night waiting for Kim Jong-Il's giant sky sausage to hit the left coast.

[Whup-Ass Master]

Dear Rambo: Typo corrected you pedantic bitch. Oh and we're still waiting for the clever part.

xox
WAM

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We appreciate the kind of gal whose hair pie doubles as an ice box. Moreover, it's the only way you could conceivably compel us to reach betwixt your thighs. However, while we always like our brew with a nice healthy head, that's hardly what we had in mind. And although we shudder to contemplate where you might have stored the pretzels, we'd be much more impressed if you did the same trick with a keg.

At any rate, thanks for the suds. You can pull your dress down now. By the way, do you have a bottle-opener? Oh. We see.

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hink about. So who better to write a charming book called "A Prayer Book for Spouses," which includes a Catholic sex prayer that opposite-married heterosexuals can say together before getting down to the unpleasant business of spousal coitus. Just prior to part where the wife does her duty by bending to her husband's will and allowing his spitting sin-serpent to spelunk in that place "down there" where Cathy-lick babies shoot out with alarming frequency, the couple gets down on their knees for a Jesus-approved orally-delivered prologue.

This is a sticky wicket, natch, as The Bible gives little reason to believe that God wants to listen to us praying about S-E-C-K-S. So as one might imagine, the priests who wrote the prayer went through many drafts before getting it just right. Thanks to our underground cadre of ninja operatives posing as sensitive altar boys, we were able to get our hands on an early version. You're welcome.

[Hermes Birkin]

This is a sticky wicket, natch, as The Bible gives little reason to believe that God wants to listen to us praying about S-E-C-K-S. So as one might imagine, the priests who wrote the prayer went through many drafts before getting it just right. Thanks to our underground cadre of ninja operatives posing as sensitive altar boys, we were able to get our hands on an early version. You're welcome.

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This is a sticky wicket, natch, as The Bible gives little reason to believe that God wants to listen to us praying about S-E-C-K-S. So as one might imagine, the priests who wrote the prayer went through many drafts before getting it just right. Thanks to our underground cadre of ninja operatives posing as sensitive altar boys, we were able to get our hands on an early version. You're welcome.

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As we all know, Cathy-lick priests are experts on everything sexual. Of course they're all celibate (wink-wink), so hippity-dippity is pretty much all they ever think about. So who better to write a charming book called "A Prayer Book for Spouses," which includes a Catholic sex prayer that opposite-married heterosexuals can say together before getting down to the unpleasant business of spousal coitus. Just prior to part where the wife does her duty by bending to her husband's will and allowing his spitting sin-serpent to spelunk in that place "down there" where Cathy-lick babies shoot out with alarming frequency, the couple gets down on their knees for a Jesus-approved orally-delivered prologue.

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