hey, murray, you seem to have a way with words. i try talking to women in bars, but i never seem to have any luck. maybe i’m not saying the right things. please help! tell me what to say!
-Speechless in Silverlake
You were at the Drawing Room last night, weren’t you? Well, I know each girl is different, but I don’t fucking know many who are turned on by this line “aAAARauuuuu WWAaaasssa uuuuuuuRRRRR NaaaaAAmme?” Why the fuck are dudes always coming up to me in bars asking me what they should say to pick up some girl? Shit. Several months ago, I was at the Scene and some motherfucker starts blabbing about how he really has to talk to this one girl and the best shit he can come up with is “YER BEAUTIFUL.” So I told the dude to forget that shit, and instead, he should go tell her “Hi, my name is ________, and I’m thinking of becoming a male nurse. Whaddya think?” And you know what? He fuckin pussied out, the drunk bastard. So listen the fuck up. If you’re gonna beg Murray for the right words to say, you’d best have the fuckin grapefruits to follow through. Here’s some conversation starters guaranteed to get some sort of strong reaction:
This one’s inspired by the Bible (Deuteronomy Chapter 22, which says it’s ok for a man to rape a woman, so long as she is not married and the rapist pays her father roughly $88 and marries her)
“I GOT A SIX PACK AND A BEN FRANKLIN! WHO WANNA PAR-TAY?????”
the pity route:
“I just broke up with my girlfriend. I caught her banging some homeless guy.”
Whatever you do, don’t try the fucking sensitive guy bullshit, ’cause that’s as transparent as the fuckin boner in your pants:
“I can’t believe what pigs guys are. Look at all these guys trying to get into these women’s pants”
the fuck you think you’re trying to do there, ya art fag? christ.
try sharing your hobbies:
“I’m constructing a fallout shelter from stolen shopping carts and empty bottles of two buck chuck. I could really use a second opinion on my shui.”
when all else fails, the immortal paul westerberg may have said it best “if only you were lonely, if only you were lonely, too, if only you were lonely, i’d go home with you.” ’cause face it. That’s the fuckin’ reality of the situation.
Now leave me the fuck alone.
Dear Murray a tasty, tasty bitch beloved and feared by hordes of basement-dwelling illiterati and their fierce antagonists, the Grammar Nazis. He single-handedly turned the webcam whorefest of Myspace into a lively commerce of ideas, including whether or not the TUBGIRL photo will ever be topped as a postmodern expression of the inexpressible. According to web historians, he has inspired more photoshop projects and syphilis jokes than Britney Spears (who he has been repeatedly linked romantically to). He is also rumoured to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby, a disciple of Cliff Yablonski, and the second gunman on the grassy knoll. Although he could not be reached for comment, he reportedly resides in or near the tent cities along the LA River Basin, third right after the walrus sunning station.
He has vehemently denied all charges that he is any any way responsible for that rash your wife claims "is from the heat".
His primary function is doling out advice; the inspiration sprang from an endless and eventually dull repetition of fucktards failed to heed his words.
A secondary result is a dysfunctional family "round table" of people who contribute innumerable one-liners and personal experiences, rarely related in any way to the actual question.
It is estimated that tens of thousands of readers have "LOL'd" approximately 5,395,645,694,167,467,105 times, with the toll expected to rise.
He is immune to kryptonite, chlamydia, and brainwashing.
Wikipedia has banned PENCILTITS's entry, debating the relevance of his tasty bitchiness.